


The Art of Deception. (01/??)

by vejiraziel



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Coming of Age, Crimes & Criminals, F/M, Gen, Impersonation, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-04-19
Updated: 2010-08-30
Packaged: 2018-03-16 08:38:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: A bit of violence - Warning, drugs - Warning, minor implications of sex, self flagelation. Eventual slash.
Chapters: 15
Words: 29,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3481595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vejiraziel/pseuds/vejiraziel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He had been unwanted but he willed himself to survive and old tricks are hard to leave behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU bunny that I had been keeping under the bunny pile, I don't think it'll be nearly as long as Paint Streaks and Sparkless, but you know how these bunnies tend to be. Several concepts seen through the duration of this fic are inspired by or belong to [](http://snugsbunny.livejournal.com/profile)[snugsbunny](http://snugsbunny.livejournal.com/) and used with permission.

Title: The Art of Deception. (01/??)  
Rating: PG-13  
Warnings: A bit of violence, minor implications of sex, drugs, self flagelation. Eventual slash.  
Characters: Jazz, Prowl, Cliffjumper. Random OCs  
Setting: G1 AU. Borrows shamelessly from IDW and DW elements as necessary.  
Summary: He had been unwanted but he willed himself to survive and old tricks are hard to leave behind.  
Notes: This is an AU bunny that I had been keeping under the bunny pile, I don't think it'll be nearly as long as Paint Streaks and Sparkless, but you know how these bunnies tend to be. Several concepts seen through the duration of this fic are inspired by or belong to [](http://snugsbunny.livejournal.com/profile)[**snugsbunny**](http://snugsbunny.livejournal.com/) and used with permission.

Many thanks to [](http://mmouse15.livejournal.com/profile)[**mmouse15**](http://mmouse15.livejournal.com/) for kindly beta reading this for me.

  
He was never a mech of faith, nor was he one of science. He was a mech of facts, of the things he could see with his own optics and touch with his own hands. It was the kind of personal politic that kept him alive in the worst of places. Growing up in Kaon was far from pleasant for a young mech that had all the makings of a Praxian elite.

But elite he was not, and an illegal creation was unlikely to get any favors from the uptight city and its beautiful and wealthy mechs. The very mechs that would be responsible for his creation. His appearance was completely that of a full Praxian, but he knew his inner workings were mixed up, an accidental creation that was to be dumped in the nearest waste disposal container, literally. He shouldn’t have been able to wake and crawl his way out of the container and onto the streets, his bare primary frame still sticky with the remnants of the polymers that formed his body. He learned how to appropriate what wasn’t his before he even learned to speak. Learned to run before he learned to actually walk.

Overall he was what everyone would have called a deviant, one way or another. But that was fine with him, he did not care. Nobody did any favors for him; he owed no kindness in return nor a care for their words. He had to offer his services to shady mechs with dubious intents in order to earn the means to acquire a secondary body, a real protoform body. He was a little thief, a little liar, a little messenger and far more.

The mech loathed his body when he came to the realization of what kind of frame he was, in his opinion, accursed with. His spark was possessed of the codes to form a pure Praxian frame, a reminder of the creators that produced him and did not want him. He loathed Praxus and loathed the elites that left him for dead in the dumpsters of the cold and sordid streets of Kaon.

He had tried with little success to modify the way his frame would turn out to be, but even at an adult stage, few things could be done without the involvement of fully accredited mechs, and such was a luxury very few could afford in the streets of Kaon. Resigning to his fate, he accepted that he would quite possibly look at the creators that he so much loathed every time he looked at himself on a mirror. But he did not wish to just graciously accept the Praxian heritage that his body reflected --a heritage that without a doubt would make his survival a tad harder in the place he had come to grow up in. An energon knife that had been his trusty companion and only aid to get himself out of sticky situations before he had the codes to speak his own name had been gripped tight when the blade cut through the sharp points of his growing chevron.

Most Praxians tapered the tips of long chevrons, either due to an unspoken agreement to mark one’s rank or simply because long and sharp chevrons were particularly sensitive and prone to cause damage if the wearer was not always aware of its true size. It was a common tradition that a long and untapered chevron was allowed only to a Praxian of high rank or extremely gifted. The tapering was usually conducted in a rather ceremonial way, with qualified mechs carrying out the procedure and family and associates present to validate the event. He had not known about the implications of his own chevron, he only knew that it marked him as a Praxian and in an act of juvenile rebellion and self flagellation, he swept the blade across one end of the chevron to spite his own heritage.

The searing pain that ensued was worse than tearing off his own arm or leg. Perhaps that would have been a more pleasant experience, given he didn’t know how to turn off pain receptors on the red metal that he had cut off. He’d lain on his face on a pool of his own energon, hands gripping his helm and digging digits into the metal with enough force to leave small dents.

It had hurt so much he’d finally fallen into stasis due to his processor being unable to stand the pain for much longer. When he did wake up he remembered the pain so vividly, he did forgo slicing away at the remaining tip. The unusual appearance of his chevron made him stand out even more than keeping the chevron intact would have, something he had grown to hate as he preferred to be anonymous, just one more face in a sea of many.

To try to drown the unwanted attention, his vivid blue paintjob had to be changed, a fact he definitely had not enjoyed since gathering the currency to procure that paintjob had required plenty of hard and risky work and not a short amount of favors. It had been youngster vanity perhaps but he had always felt the blue shade suited him. He adopted a simple white frame, devoid of special markings or detailing that would make him stand out –a function the simple scheme managed just fine.

Life had not been much easier from that point onwards, he still did the jobs that would come his way and always performed to the best possible standards. Soon, though, small jobs became of little consequence to him, he wanted bigger things, bigger risks and greater thrills. He became addicted to the unsavory and dubious activities that had been his occupation since he was dumped in Kaon.

He didn’t have any plans for his immediate future, living each cycle as it came. He had a place to stay, and was always available and ready to do the tasks others were afraid of, thus giving him a steady income even if the origins of such income were shady and far from legal in many aspects. His one other pleasure in his life, what he occupied most of his free time on, was on the rather lacking public data and book-file facilities where he could indulge for hours reading anything he could.

“Hey, you!”

The mech looked up from his data pad, quirking an optic ridge at the attendant on the counter of the book-file facility. “Yes?”

“Sorry, I keep forgettin’ yer name, kid.” The mech said somewhat dismissively, waving a couple of pads in the air. “We got dumped a couple a’book files that ya might like.”

“TFDSP-17077” the young mech with the split chevron responded as he made his way to the counter, accepting the pads the attendant offered to him. He didn’t have a name, only a serial number that was pre-recorded and etched on his spark chamber. All mechs, whether they survived the formation process of their initial polymer protoform or not, were given a serial number to identify them until the newly created mechs were officially registered and given a designation.

He was never given one, given that his creators had dumped him in Kaon moments after his creation. They probably hadn’t even realized he was aware of himself and what they were doing, aware of what they said and how they did not want him, the only reason he had not been terminated before being given a polymer body was that his creation had not been discovered until it was too late to do anything without compromising the spark of his carrier.

It wasn’t entirely uncommon that some mechs would go without designation for a while, some circles preferred to allow their young ones to name themselves when they found a name that suited them, but most of them did so way before their upgrades to younglings, he was too old to be a mech without name.

In the streets he never needed a name, though, and thus he never bothered to give himself one or register himself under one. His serial code kept him anonymous to do his dirtier deeds and reap the benefits. There was no name to refer to, and his serial number would point to nothing but the registered number of a spark chamber and protoform for a creation, likely to be accounted as deceased in the registries.

He read for several joors until the early evening, having business to attend to with some bar owners where he’d have to collect currency for certain distributors of regulated chemicals. He was unphased by everything that went through that kind of establishments. Bars in Kaon were nothing like they would be in other places, the lowest of the low could be found there, and morals or ethics were like foreign words. He had seen everything since practically his creation, nothing bothered him or phased him anymore.

“Hey, SP.” A female mech waved at him as entered the bar; she was leaning behind a table. She looked a little unkempt but her armor showed the makings of high quality upgrades. The young mech with the cut chevron nodded at her in greeting, they’d gone through this one too many times and he knew the routine from beginning to end.

“When are you going to ditch those pitiful mechs you call bosses and get a much more profitable occupation with me?” She asked, holding a hand out for one of her so called bodyguards to polish the dulled paint.

“I appreciate the offer, but I rather enjoy being a free agent.” He knew very well the kind of occupation she offered him and he had no intention of committing himself to the desires of a female rich enough to live in the Towers, Praxus or Crystal City but scandalous enough to not be wanted around either place, and quite unwilling to allow the social taboos to curb her entertainment and lifestyle.

“It’s a shame. But you know there’s always a place for you at my service.”

“And in your berth.” He quirked an optic brow, she was by far much taller than he, already a fully matured mech by many, many vorns, he wouldn’t reach to her height any time soon, but she enjoyed her pleasures with a variety of mechs of all shapes and sizes.

She laughed at his pointed remark, waving her free hand with disdain. “Cannot blame me for admiring a pretty face and even prettier aft, SP.”

“Of course not, but I still have to turn down your offer.” He smiled amiably but the cynicism of his voice was quite evident.

“Suit yourself, mechlet, but you know there’s always a place for you with me.”

The mechlet nodded and waved the female off as he made his way to the counter where the bartender gave him a hard glare. “One of these cycles those thugs are going to get you good, mech.”

“Just doing my job.” The youngster shrugged, uncaring for the so called words of wisdom. “Tell Orideacon to stop consuming if you do not wish to see me around anymore. While you’re doing that, let him know I’m here to collect his debt.”

The bartender snorted and crossed his arms. “What will you do if I decide I don’t want to inform him?”

The mechlet smiled amiably. “Would you like to get a matching hook in the other arm, Padlock?”

“You don’t scare me, you know?”

“I don’t need to scare you. I’m merely being polite... or you go and tell him, or I do it on my own.” The much smaller mech spoke with a pleasant tone, bringing a white hand to the other mech’s field of view and sharp claws sprung to view. “My way.”

“Tch!” Padlock glared at the much smaller mech and produced a data card. “Take the currency and get lost before I decide to see you to the entrance the way you deserve.”

“Your bravado won’t get you anywhere, Padlock.” The mech with the cut-off chevron accepted the card, producing a portable terminal where he inserted the card to transfer the currency, he made sure to subtract a small amount of the owed currency to a different data card, rather than the one intended for his boss. “I’ll see you next deca-cycle unless you manage to get that bondmate of yours to a detoxification clinic and keep him there for more than a few joors.” He said while he handed the card back.

“Just get out of my sight already.”

With a mocking bow of his head the youngster subspaced the terminal and left. As he approached the dealer’s lair, he leaned against a wall, subspacing the terminal again and looked around the other mechs coming to deliver the currency they collected. He looked at the amount that was missing, smiling to himself as he accessed another terminal remotely, picking on the first unsuspecting collector that passed close enough. With a mastery developed over vorns of well practiced theft, he hacked the remote terminal, subtracting part of the funds collected in the data-card destined for the dealer, and transferring them to the card in his terminal.

After the operation was done, he erased all traces of his illegal access and extracted the card to deliver the currency to his boss heading into the shoddy shack where the dealer awaited the payments owed. They never saw the dealer, each one of them delivered the cards to the dealer’s underling and received their payment in return, all cards were scanned before they received their payment, and sometimes he hung around to see the mechs he’d just stolen from try to explain the missing currency. Some days, like today, when he wasn’t in the mood to watch, he merely walked away.

He walked by the darkening streets, watching other passing by. By now his red chevron was almost as anonymous as the rest of his paint job, and his frame looked almost common enough in the nicer parts of Kaon. Distracted by his contemplation of the world around him, he failed to see a pair of mechs walking in the opposite direction and it was too late by the time he turned around to see a flash of blue and then feel his body impacting against another, losing his balance and falling flat on his aft.  
“Ooff! I’m Sorry!”

He heard a voice speaking and soon a pale face wearing a bright visor invaded his field of view. “I didn’t see ya. Here, let me help ya up.” The visored mech smiled sheepishly an offered his hand to help him up.

“It’s fine.” He accepted the offered hand and stood up, dusting himself up as he side glanced to the mech. He couldn’t help the tilt of his helm when he saw the mech a tad shorter than him, probably not upgraded into his adult frame either.

“I need t’stop gettin’ so distracted but it’s my first time in Kaon.” The visored mech smiled, helping to dust the white mechlet up.

The chevroned one could see this mech was excited about being in Kaon for some reason, but he couldn’t fathom why, until he saw the specific decals and decorations on his armor and that of his shorter companion. “A cadet?”

“Eh?” the blue visor flickered a few times until it flashed in understanding. “Oh, yes. I’m a cadet at the academy in Iacon.” The visored mech tilted his helm and couldn’t help but bring a finger to the side of the chevron that was cut off. “Oh, it’s cut off. That had t’hurt a lot.”

“It did.” The mechlet stiffened at the touch on his chevron, unused to other mechs touching it.

The visored one pulled his hand away, realizing he was probably invading the other mech’s personal space. “Gonna get it repaired? It’s such a pretty chevron. Never saw one that wasn’t tapered.”

“I—“

“Jazz, we gotta get going. Ironhide’s gonna have our afts if we don’t report in three breems and we’re pretty far from the security headquarters as it is.” The gruff mech next to him spoke. He had a horned helm, all red like the rest of his detailing and seemed to be older than they were, but much shorter.

“Yeah, yeah.” Jazz, the visored mech turned to the nameless youngster with the cut off chevron. “Well, better get going...I don’t know yer name but y’know mine.” He smiled sheepishly and the chrevroned youngling couldn’t help but duck his head and look down, wishing for the first time in his life he had a name.

“Prowl.” He barely heard himself speak.

“Prowl, huh? Suits ya, mech.” Jazz smiled wider.

His companion wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries, though. “Jazz, we’re going to be late!”

“Gee, I’m comin’!” with a huff he turned an apologetic smile and waved away. “Gotta go, don’t go walkin’ into more cadets now, pay attention on the road!”

The chevroned mech, now self named as Prowl, watched the two cadets walk away, bringing a hand to his incomplete chevron, stroking in the same place Jazz had touched him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He had been unwanted but he willed himself to survive and old tricks are hard to leave behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an AU bunny that I had been keeping under the bunny pile, I don't think it'll be nearly as long as Paint Streaks and Sparkless, but you know how these bunnies tend to be. Several concepts seen through the duration of this fic are inspired by or belong to [](http://snugsbunny.livejournal.com/profile)[snugsbunny](http://snugsbunny.livejournal.com/) and used with permission.

Title: The Art of Deception. (02/??)  
Rating: PG-13  
Warnings: A bit of violence, minor implications of sex, drugs, self flagelation. Eventual slash.  
Characters: Prowl, Cliffjumper. Random OCs  
Setting: G1 AU. Borrows shamelessly from IDW and DW elements as necessary.  
Summary: He had been unwanted but he willed himself to survive and old tricks are hard to leave behind.  
Notes: This is an AU bunny that I had been keeping under the bunny pile, I don't think it'll be nearly as long as Paint Streaks and Sparkless, but you know how these bunnies tend to be. Several concepts seen through the duration of this fic are inspired by or belong to [](http://snugsbunny.livejournal.com/profile)[**snugsbunny**](http://snugsbunny.livejournal.com/) and used with permission.

Many thanks to [](http://mmouse15.livejournal.com/profile)[**mmouse15**](http://mmouse15.livejournal.com/) for kindly beta reading this for me.

 

“You, mech, are a creep.” Cliffjumper glared at the mech sitting outside on a table with a data pad in one hand and a can of energon in the other.

Prowl looked up from his pad, raising an optic brow at the minibot that had planted himself in his line of view. “Care to elaborate?”

Cliffjumper huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, looking down at the other with a positively hostile look. “This whole stalking Jazz. You gotta stop that, mech, it’s creepy and quite frankly you’re creepy enough without adding stalker to your list of charms.”

Prowl looked back down to his pad, continuing his reading. “I fail to see how I am stalking your friend. I am doing nothing but sitting in a public area, drinking energon and reading a book-file.”

The red mini bot’s optics narrowed at the calm and seemingly unaffected tone, he didn’t like this mech from the moment they crossed paths and Prowl had done little to endear himself to the red mech. “You’re going to tell me you casually do this every cycle? Sit down here to read your book files and have energon at the same time our training period is over? Conveniently in the side of the same gate Jazz and I use to go to our quarters?”

“Yes, in fact.”

“Well, I don’t buy it,” Cliffjumper threw his arms up, ignoring the weird looks other mechs were giving him. “Look, I know Jazz is a pretty neat mech and he has this uncanny ability to garner attention without even trying but you ought to stop with the cyber-puppy treatment. You think I don’t know you look at us –more specifically at Jazz when we’re going back home?”

“I believe I am allowed the freedom to look at anything I wish to.”

“You’re stalking Jazz.”

“Looking at him is stalking now?” Prowl chuckled, for once actually feeling his newly given name was ironically fitting. “I look at many mechs when I sit here, doesn’t mean I’m a stricken love-sick pup as you have so eloquently put it.”

“It doesn’t, now?” Cliffjumper looked at him with challenge shining in his optics. “Then what is so interesting about watching Jazz?”

“I don’t watch only Jazz.” Prowl smiled amiably. “I also watch you. Does it mean I’m stalking you as well?”

“Don’t play games with me.”

“They’re not games. I watch you both because I am actually curious about the cadets, you two happen to be the only ones I’ve actually met.” Prowl shrugged and sipped his energon. “I find it easier to satisfy my curiosity with faces that are familiar.”

“Curious?” Cliffjumper looked at the other mech, intrigued in spite of himself.

“There’s no Academy in Kaon, I’m naturally intrigued about what two cadets from Iacon are doing here.” Prowl explained, placing a digital bookmark on his book, turning the pad off. “I only know the elementary basics about what the students at the Academy do in Iacon, but nothing else and that does make me curious.” He stood up, finishing his cube. “In any case, I have business to attend to now, so I must retire.”

Prowl didn’t wait for Cliffjumper to retaliate or even speak a word, making his way across the street and successfully mingling into the crowd so Cliffjumper couldn’t even follow him with his optics.

While it was true that Prowl was curious about the cadets, he was particularly curious about Jazz. There seemed to be something about that young mech that was intriguing to him but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He looked far too chipper and cheerful to be in the security headquarters in Kaon where he was apparently receiving training. Prowl knew the kind of training that went there and wasn’t something that would leave many mechs seemingly so content after a grueling cycle of being beaten to the ground by the burly mechs that composed the bulk of the security response forces.

Prowl knew about them quite well, after all they were the ‘enemy’, in more than one occasion Prowl had to make sure he’d avoid them while carrying on with his ‘jobs’. It had become a game for him, sometimes he’d slip right underneath their olfactory sensors, and it was a thrill he thrived on. He knew so much about them but they knew so little. The security response forces in Kaon were known to be quite ruthless and dispensed no pleasantries with suspects and confirmed criminals. Every time a security response mech walked into a block or building while on official duties it wasn’t going to be a pleasant moment for anyone. More often than not the security response mechs broke as many things as the criminals or troublemakers they were after.

It was then a curiosity for him why a mech with such apparently kind demeanor and happy disposition would be accepting training from mechs much bigger and meaner than he was. That Jazz cadet couldn’t possibly be aiming to become a member of security response in Kaon was he?

“What’s on your mind, SP?”

Prowl looked back at the female calling him, vaguely aware he had made his way to the bar, though not to collect any debts this time. He remembered the female had mentioned in one of her many bragging sessions she had at one point a certain influence in the Academy in Iacon. “I was wondering about the Academy of Iacon, I saw a couple of cadets a few cycles ago. I don’t remember ever seeing any around here before. I don’t see any value in sending cadets to train here with the likes of Roadbuster.”

“Ah, that. It’s a new training procedure for a specific course I believe. Haven’t been paying too much attention of what happens in the Academy lately.” The female waved her hand dismissively.

Prowl tilted his head and considered for a moment. “Do you still have connection with the Academy?”

“A few, why?”

Prowl looked at her with a little smile. “Just curious.”

She looked at him with drunken half lidded optics. “Mmm, careful SP, the Academy is not something you want to mess around with.”

“Is that so?” Prowl knew he shouldn’t take the bait for a challenge, but his entire life was nothing if not based around challenges.

“They have the best of the best from all around Cybertron, SP. Students, academics and staff.” She warned him, taking a long swing of her drink. “Don’t know what you’ve got going in that processor of yours right now, but trust me, you don’t want to mess with the Academy.”

Prowl smiled at the drunken female, his hands coming to rest on the table as he leaned forward, his face merely at a few inches from hers. “Oh, what is in my processor at the moment has nothing to do with the Academy at all.” He purred softly, his optics gleaming with mischievousness.

“Mmm, feeling saucy today, SP?” she ran a hand over Prowl’s cheek.

Prowl hummed softly, allowing her to touch his face, he was used to this kind of touch from her and others. “Perhaps I have reconsidered your offer. It’s not safe or convenient for me to keep doing the small jobs around here anymore.”

“I knew you would see things my way sooner or later.” She waved a hand at her bodyguard, the mech grunting in acknowledgement as he went to the bar to collect his employer’s bill. “Why don’t we go to get you acquainted in your new job, SP?”

Prowl smiled and his optics flashed for a moment. “Lead the way.”

\----------------

Notes: Sorry for the short chapter but it's a transcition chapter so the interesting stuff happens in the next.


	3. The Art of Deception. (03/??)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He had been unwanted but he willed himself to survive and old tricks are hard to leave behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an AU bunny that I had been keeping under the bunny pile, I don't think it'll be nearly as long as Paint Streaks and Sparkless, but you know how these bunnies tend to be. Several concepts seen through the duration of this fic are inspired by or belong to [](http://snugsbunny.livejournal.com/profile)[snugsbunny](http://snugsbunny.livejournal.com/) and used with permission.

Title: The Art of Deception. (03/??)  
Rating: PG-13  
Warnings: A bit of violence, minor implications of sex, drugs, self flagelation. Eventual slash.  
Characters: Prowl. Random OCs  
Setting: G1 AU. Borrows shamelessly from IDW and DW elements as necessary.  
Summary: He had been unwanted but he willed himself to survive and old tricks are hard to leave behind.  
Notes: This is an AU bunny that I had been keeping under the bunny pile, I don't think it'll be nearly as long as Paint Streaks and Sparkless, but you know how these bunnies tend to be. Several concepts seen through the duration of this fic are inspired by or belong to [](http://snugsbunny.livejournal.com/profile)[**snugsbunny**](http://snugsbunny.livejournal.com/) and used with permission.

Many thanks to [](http://mmouse15.livejournal.com/profile)[**mmouse15**](http://mmouse15.livejournal.com/) for kindly beta reading this for me.

Prowl closed the door behind himself, looking over his shoulder to the female sprawled on the berth, depleted of energy after a few joors and some special concoctions Prowl had offered to his new employer.

He was glad the female’s apartments were so big that she had separate quarters within the tower; he was especially glad the washrack was separate from the main dorm, he needed to clean himself after appealing and satisfying every little whim. Prowl had no problem allowing the female to have her way with him or doing whatever she pleased in a myriad of ways; he was used to using everything he was, body and processor to ensure his survival, so tending to his new employer’s wishes was nothing new for him. That didn’t mean he enjoyed the act.

He had no problem using his body, his prowess and charms to get what he wanted, they were but tools, a means to an end and that was as far as he cared to acknowledge it, always detaching himself emotionally and he was good enough of an actor to make his companions believe he was as involved as they were, never giving them room to suspect he was in control all the time, playing them like instruments.

Prowl stood underneath the spray of the washrack, washing himself from the spilled energon the female found entertaining to coat him with. He knew the berth’s padding would need to be changed and washed by the time his new employer would wake up, but that wouldn’t be for a few more hours, he made sure of that.

He learned a few things as he was growing up in the streets. He learned from a more complacent bar tender the many ways a mech could be knocked offline with nothing but high grade mixes, all perfectly legal but mixed in specific ways that would knock a mech offline faster and keep them that way for a certain amount of time. He took great interest on that when he was employed by the lowly thugs to humor them bringing them drinks.

Prowl learned that if he managed to knock them all off at the same time, he could pick in their subspace pockets, look through their storage crates and cabinets for goodies and thus it became a relatively regular occurrence. He didn’t do it too often, no, but whenever they least expected it, he would serve them the appropriate mixes or misplace the correct drinks to ensure their systems would overcharge and then go into temporary stasis, as the goodies stopped being the only thing that interested him, he began to strip his bosses off other belongings that he could use for his sustenance.

That knowledge was particularly handy in this occasion, when he wanted to make sure he’d have some time where the female’s hands would be off him, and her penchant for constantly having a cube of high-grade in her hand was just playing in his favor. Mixing up a harmless drink, he ensured it’d be a bit too much for her systems, and with the expenditure from other activities, she would be offline for a few hours.

After washing himself he made his way out of the washracks, drying himself up with absorbent cloths as he looked around to get to know his surroundings and current base of operations. She wanted him to stay with her at her beck and call, which meant he was going to spend a considerable amount of time by himself in her apartments lest she wished to give him the opportunity of quick trips to the library and he doubted she’d give him even that much time away from her grasp. He was alright with it, though, he had plans of his own and this was merely one step on the ladder.

He trudged around, his optics glinted and narrowed when found her personal computer and made his way there. Sitting down before the terminal he was mildly surprised the female didn’t have password protected her computer, but then, considering the kind of mechs she hung out with and the kind she actually employed he wasn’t too surprised. Most of them were in for the immediate rewards and thus didn’t know the potential of the position.

Prowl knew his new boss didn’t want him around for his sharp processor and smarts, she wanted him because she found his appearance appealing and if the night before was any indication, she was not disappointed with his performance –even if she was too intoxicated to actually grade him properly.

But Prowl wasn’t in this because of the immediate rewards. He was playing a game, a dangerous one perhaps but he found the challenge thrilling and the rewards were worth it. He looked through the addresses and access passwords she possessed, a smile spreading over his lips when he found what he had hoped for when he accepted to come with the female.

“Interesting...let’s see how far I can get in.” Prowl murmured to himself as he used her connections to access the administrative server of the Academy in Iacon. He spend a while sifting through the information, learning about the administrative body and any information that was public before he took to his real challenge.

Necessity was an accomplished teacher and he learned to hack through many things in order to survive, it all started with subspace pockets and didn’t stop there. Now he was an accomplished hacker and found the challenge of opening locks considered impossible to crack to be quite enticing. He made his way through the security locks, some proved more challenging than others but eventually managed to crack his way to the very core of the server and the precious information it contained.

He pondered as he reached the registration process and paused as he reviewed the files of the many different students set to enroll in the following period. The standards to be accepted were definitely high but he knew he could easily get his way in if he set his processor to it. The problem was that he had no formal prior education and no registries pointing to his existence. His anonymity was now playing against him if he wished to be accepted, but he didn’t survive in Kaon for this long for nothing and looked through the files of the students set to enroll for an appropriate candidate.

The results had not been delivered yet and thus, these mechs wouldn’t know if they had been accepted or not until much, much later. It was the perfect time for him to make his move and he didn’t waste time in taking the chance. He altered the results of a mech that would make the cut. Much to his disgust but to his benefit, there was a Praxian mech amongst the prospective cadets and despite his loathing for his heritage, it was going to be the only way he could justify his own Praxian appearance once he was in the Academy grounds.

He hacked the mech’s registry, altering values and data where appropriate. Only a revision of his spark chamber would reveal that his serial number was linked to that of a mech that would be presupposed as dead, and he could easily claim to know nothing about it. He would deal with that as it came, if it ever arose but for the time being, stealing the achievements and partly the identity of another Praxian would be sufficient.  
There was only one problem and he’d have to deal with that one soon enough. The photograph of the candidate would give him away even if both were Praxian in design. The mechlet had a tapered copper colored chevron, much smaller than Prowl’s was and his facial plates were much darker than Prowl’s. The visible paint was white, though, but the golden optics wouldn’t do.

“I suppose I’ll have to take care of this later.” Making sure to save what he had already changed and covering his tracks, Prowl logged off the server and turned the computer off, checking his internal chronometer to review how much longer would take for his current employer to wake up and seek him once more.

He had really skirted too close to comfort this time, he had less than a breem before her systems would power back up. He left the computer alone, making sure everything was as before he got in, although he doubted she would even pay attention to that, and made his way to the washrack where he began to draw a bath for the female ‘bot.

Just as he expected, less than a breem later she stumbled her way to the washracks where she found him sitting by the tub where he was drawing a bath for her, pouring minerals and cleaning solution for her.

“Fast at work I see.” She mumbled, obviously still a little sluggish.

“I thought you would like a warm bath after waking up to ease away any possible soreness. I’ll have your energon ready shortly and will change the berth’s padding in a moment.” Prowl answered, not bothering to greet his new employer.

“You’re gonna be my personal butler now, SP?”

“I thought I might as well make myself useful here, even you would tire of just keeping me around for my pretty faceplate.” Prowl smirked as she laughed.

“Hardly, but hey if you want to endear to me further, by all means, mechlet.” She stepped into the bath once it was ready, holding her arm out in clear demand of something. Prowl came to her and took a brush to scrub at her plating. “You’re being so good to me, SP, is there anything you’d like to start cashing your employee benefits with?”

“Actually, there is something...” Prowl murmured, dipping his helm as if he was ashamed of asking. “Do you know someone that could repair...missing plating?”

She laughed and waved her other hand dismissively. “I know the mech just for you, mechlet, and he’s totally legit. We’ll go to see him after my breakfast.”

Prowl thanked her with a small smile, his optics glinting at his success.


	4. The Art of Deception. (04/??)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He had been unwanted but he willed himself to survive and old tricks are hard to leave behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an AU bunny that I had been keeping under the bunny pile, I don't think it'll be nearly as long as Paint Streaks and Sparkless, but you know how these bunnies tend to be. Several concepts seen through the duration of this fic are inspired by or belong to [](http://snugsbunny.livejournal.com/profile)[snugsbunny](http://snugsbunny.livejournal.com/) and used with permission.

Title: The Art of Deception. (04/??)  
Rating: PG-13  
Warnings: A bit of violence, minor implications of sex, drugs, self flagelation. Eventual slash.  
Characters: Prowl. Random OCs  
Setting: G1 AU. Borrows shamelessly from IDW and DW elements as necessary.  
Summary: He had been unwanted but he willed himself to survive and old tricks are hard to leave behind.  
Notes: This is an AU bunny that I had been keeping under the bunny pile, I don't think it'll be nearly as long as Paint Streaks and Sparkless, but you know how these bunnies tend to be. Several concepts seen through the duration of this fic are inspired by or belong to [](http://snugsbunny.livejournal.com/profile)[**snugsbunny**](http://snugsbunny.livejournal.com/) and used with permission.

Many thanks to [](http://mmouse15.livejournal.com/profile)[**mmouse15**](http://mmouse15.livejournal.com/) for kindly beta reading this for me.

Prowl had to resist the urge to glare proverbial daggers at his current employer who was more than perfectly entertained watching a few dancers on the stage of another slightly upper-class bar in the nicer parts of Kaon while her fingers danced up and down over the length of his newly repaired chevron. He tolerated the touch out of necessity, having to restrain long ingrained reactions to unwanted touch.

Even before he could speak, he had learned to defend himself of touch that was not welcome, be it those that tried to beat him or hurt him, or touch him in sensitive places that usually brought him quite a bit of pain, such as the panels that began to grow on his back, and before he identified it as such, the little points that would grow into his chevron. His dental plating had usually been involved in the defense of his little self.

Now, though, biting the hand that was literally feeding him energon confections was not a good idea. Prowl didn’t enjoy being kept around like a pet the way this female was, but he knew that for his plan to work, he had to be patient and put a complacent front.

“Bored yet, SP?” The female asked without looking at him, watching the dancers with interest and secretly envying their nimbleness.

“I’ve never been adept to dancing or watching others dance.” Prowl replied in a quiet tone, being honest about how bored he really was. He could be doing something else than watch group after group of exotic dancers and eating goodies for the amusement of his current employer. Better things like uploading his picture to the database of the Academy in Iacon.

“Well I’m actually a little bored myself, so, let me finish this round and we can go back home.”

Prowl merely nodded quietly and endured the remaining time it would take for his employer to be done, he sighed mentally wondering if she would request his ‘services’ that night or not.

Thankfully for him she had been tired that cycle and didn’t request his favors, but did give him another opportunity to work in his own personal project when she requested a drink before recharging. Prowl made sure she would have a long, deep and quite restful recharge indeed. He took the time to cover the female with a heat dispersing blanket, acting like a loving or attentive caretaker would, but it was all a facade to keep himself in her good graces until he was ready to fly off her nest.

Once he was sure she was comfortable and deeply in recharge, he headed out of the room towards the computer terminal, easily hacking his way back into the Academy’s server. He took an alternate route this time although he managed to identify his previous invasion so far had gone undetected, but he knew taking alternative routes were a safer method. He took the time to play about with the files of other students, altering their records minimally or changing data just to change it back to the previous values, ensuring that, in the remote case that his invasion was discovered, he wouldn’t give himself out by singling out just one student. The file records would demonstrate that more than one student’s file had been accessed, thus, making it harder to narrow down the search for him.

After he finished altering the file, replacing the student’s picture with his own he frowned, he didn’t quite like to look at himself and that Praxian frame of his, every time he just couldn’t help but wonder after which of his creators he took after, to which one he owed the crimson of his chevron or the specific shape of his wing panels.

Growling a little, he closed the file that was now his, making sure he saved it properly and then, after some consideration he decided to look for certain mechs’ files. He found Cliffjumper’s file, not at all impressed with the weapons master in training. Cliffjumper could be considered one of the mechs that got their place in the Academy through skill rather than academic merits. Prowl did appreciate skill of course, but he knew that skill alone without a processor and common sense to direct that skill a mech could be a loose cannon.

He sifted through the files of the general classes that Cliffjumper and Jazz shared, trying to get an idea of the kind of mechs they hung with and the ‘walks of life’ they came from. There were mechs from the higher classes and mechs that just managed to get out of the ghettos like himself. Prowl knew he could have been one of them if he had grown with creators or at least properly dropped on a care center, and thus attended the education centers. He felt a small surge of hatred towards his creators once more for abandoning him, but decided to stomp it down. To get emotional at this moment would be counterproductive, the emotions would make him unstable, more prone to commit mistakes and thus risking the success of his mission.

He distracted himself away from his unhappy thoughts looking through Jazz’s files. He wasn’t the top of the class but he was a little above the average of the class, his grades were good enough in most of the academic disciplines and quite high on the remaining ones. It didn’t specify what field Jazz seemed to be specializing in, but given the classes he was taking along with those he already approved, he supposed Jazz was training for a law enforcement specialized task force or, if his sights were on the military, it was likely he would become an agent for special operations.

Prowl looked through the records of more students, trying to guess which fields it was likely they’d end up taking as profession in the case of those that had no specialty identified in the records, and judging whether or not others were fit for their designated specialty courses.

When he had enough of reading records of students and random teachers, he decided it was time to log off, however an idea struck him when he was about to pull back. With a devious grin on his face plates, he brought back up Cliffjumper’s records one more time.

“I never liked him that much anyway.” Prowl chuckled, altering one of the scores for Cliffjumper’s latest examination period, bringing the score down without actually failing the class for no other reason than to bring down his general score and thus forcing the mech to take a revision course to bring the scores up. Satisfied with his own questionable deed, Prowl logged off carefully.

“Time to sort a few things.” Prowl walked away, exiting his employer’s apartments and heading towards the shady sectors where his last place of residence was located. It was already the time when most decent and hard working mechs were recharging and the most morally questionable mechs and femmes came out to play. He made his way to the block where he used to live, the manager of the place allowed him to stay there without charge on the promise Prowl would make sure to keep the thugs and crime lords Prowl had worked for off his tail pipes. The place was small and pretty spartan but it was fine for him, he spent as little time as he could in the two small rooms, keeping just his provision of energon and a berth to recharge on as the only luxuries he needed.

He didn’t bother to greet the manager, heading straight for his place to clear out a few things. He did keep something hidden underneath the padding of his berth in a small compartment within the frame. It was a terminal he’d stolen from one of the crime lords he had worked for, the terminal granted him access to a separate account the crime lord had set aside for his current lover and Prowl had steadily studied his spending habits, knowing the mech could easily blow a hefty sum in one night without even having a recollection of how it was spent. Taking advantage of that fact, Prowl made it a routine to subtract some currency from this account and transfer it to a collection of cards that stored the money for his use as he had been too young to set an account of his own before.

“Now I can set up an account once I am in Iacon, when my student ID and codes are set up by the Academy.” Prowl smiled to himself with satisfaction. So far his plan was going well, he only had to wait patiently until he could escape his ‘keeper’ and her attentions. He transferred a hefty sum from that account to a series of cards, reviewing how much he had on each one. He had enough to last him all his stay in the Academy comfortably and then some, but knowing himself some unfortunate student or a few would see a few drains in their accounts when least expected.

Prowl subspaced the cards into an extremely secure pocket in his subspace along with the terminal. He’d destroy it later if necessary but for now he had to return to his golden cage before his new employer would awake, since he actually wanted to get some recharge of his own this time. He passed by one of the many bars and shoddy clubs where he usually would collect debts owed to dealers and crime lords and where his new employer would spend joors intoxicating her systems and seeking to entertain herself one way or another.

The music in one of the ‘highest class’ clubs of the zone was loud enough that could be heard clearly from across the street. It was one of the few clubs the female usually didn’t go to since it didn’t offer too much in the way of ‘visual’ entertainment, most of the entertainment came from the patrons dancing and the occasional performance of artists now and again, and Prowl knew his employer was not a talented dancer. She wasn’t even a talentless dancer to put it mildly.

The melody flowed easily and he couldn’t help but laugh at the vibrato of the electronic voice of some artist’s vocalizer belting out the notes and lyrics to a particularly bouncy melody. But it were the lyrics what made him laugh as his devious processors presented him with an idea that he just couldn’t help but want to put into practice as parting gift for his employer once she had exhausted her usefulness for him.

“Aren’t you a lucky one? You’re going to get me to dance.” Prowl chuckled to himself as he mock talked to a mech that was no there to hear him.

He arrived to her apartments a few breems later, going straight to her room to check on her and make sure she was still deeply in recharge. He smiled to himself as he stepped inside, his steps so quiet even when he knew she couldn’t hear even if she wanted to. He watched her for a moment to make sure she was resting well and her systems were operating normally, bringing a finger to one of the antennae decorating her helm. He wished he could pay back for the incessant and quite unwelcome touch to his still healing chevron but he knew he couldn’t just now. He would get his revenge for that later on, but for now he decided to leave the room and allow his employer her blissful unconsciousness so he, too, could get some rest of his own.


	5. The Art of Deception. (05/??)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He had been unwanted but he willed himself to survive and old tricks are hard to leave behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an AU bunny that I had been keeping under the bunny pile, I don't think it'll be nearly as long as Paint Streaks and Sparkless, but you know how these bunnies tend to be. Several concepts seen through the duration of this fic are inspired by or belong to [](http://snugsbunny.livejournal.com/profile)[snugsbunny](http://snugsbunny.livejournal.com/) and used with permission.

Title: The Art of Deception. (05/??)  
Rating: PG-13  
Warnings: A bit of violence, minor implications of sex, drugs, self flagelation. Eventual slash.  
Characters: Prowl. Random OCs  
Setting: G1 AU. Borrows shamelessly from IDW and DW elements as necessary.  
Summary: He had been unwanted but he willed himself to survive and old tricks are hard to leave behind.  
Notes: This is an AU bunny that I had been keeping under the bunny pile, I don't think it'll be nearly as long as Paint Streaks and Sparkless, but you know how these bunnies tend to be. Several concepts seen through the duration of this fic are inspired by or belong to [](http://snugsbunny.livejournal.com/profile)[**snugsbunny**](http://snugsbunny.livejournal.com/) and used with permission.

Many thanks to [](http://mmouse15.livejournal.com/profile)[**mmouse15**](http://mmouse15.livejournal.com/) for kindly beta reading this for me. The thing at the end?...yeah, Prowl made me do it. D:

  
The screams that preceded the pattering of two figures scrambling through the hall and out of the apartment had Prowl smile to himself in that self satisfied way of his. He composed his features, though, locking his optics on his pad and reading through the glyphs casually when another set of footsteps announced a visitor in his given rooms.

“You’re a little deviant, SP.”

Prowl smiled inwardly but remained stoic on the outside at the tone of amusement from his employer as she leaned over the nearest shelf.

“Am I?” He asked with well practiced feigned innocence.

“You are.” She smiled thoroughly amused and well entertained with Prowl’s latest display of his opinion of his competitors. “You rigged my lovely friends’ device, didn’t you?”

“Did something happen to them while they were grooming themselves for you?” Prowl asked innocently, looking thoroughly bored with the subject although he was deviously satisfied beneath his mask of stoicism and feigned innocence.

“Why, SP, didn’t you hear those screams?” The female crossed her arms and laughed softly. “Their plating’s color layer melted all the way past the Primus only knows how many coats.”

“Really?” Prowl quirked an optic brow, acting mildly surprised. “That’s a shame, I’m sure they invested quite a sum on their face plates’ color and upkeep.”

She chuckled. “What’d you do to their polishing machinery, you deviant?”

“What makes you think it was my doing?”

“You didn’t seem to be very impressed with them, seems to me you were trying to remove your competitors.”

Prowl looked up as if considering that point. “Were they really my competition, though?”

Prowl didn’t consider them competition. He didn’t live on false modesty and he knew what the two pretty females could offer was pretty much nothing in comparison to what he could do for his employer, and he knew she preferred his services to theirs. It didn’t mean that the two females didn’t consider themselves suitable competitors and relied so heavily on their good appearance and little else. Prowl had learned enough skills to make him not only a pleasing partner on his employer’s berth, but also a valuable aid outside of it.

After all was said and done, his so called competitors would just lazy about and prim and groom themselves in expensive maintenance and detailing shops or in some cases with home devices like the one he did rig.

It wasn’t out of jealousy, because he didn’t feel threatened, but because they irritated him with their never ending rambling and their own fancying themselves rivals that could actually pose a potential threat to his position, so he decided to show them what a pathetic competition they truly were.

It was not the first time in the past few decacycles that mechs and females alike have tried to fancy themselves worthy of being in the permanent company of the lady of the house, but Prowl knew better. It didn’t mean he was above mean pranks to teach them who was the real ‘alpha’ in that pack.

“Of course not. They got a nice chassis and up until two breems ago a pair of pretty faces, but really a dead weight otherwise. Can’t say they were exactly good lays either.” The female leered and leaned over Prowl, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and bringing slender fingers to stroke the length of Prowl’s repaired and all healed chevron. “I got a real deal here, mechlet. I am not trading you any time soon.”

He flinched, as he always did, under the touch. He hated to have his chevron touched like that and more so when it was his employer doing the touching. Still, he endured it, and forced himself to be complacent for her. Until her usefulness was done and over, he would put up with everything, even the very unwelcome touch to such a sensitive part of his body.

“I’m glad you find my services worth keeping.” He forced the statement through the flicker of annoyance he usually had after the first few brushes of sensation on his chevron shifted from an uncomfortable feeling to a rather annoying itch.

She smiled, pleased with herself and how polite and dutiful ‘SP’ was. She had no idea he already used a name of his own. “Mmhmm. Well, what do you say if you prepare my bath and we hit the club after some breakfast? I’ll treat you to a nice confectionery on the way there.”

Prowl smiled graciously, bowing his head lightly, partly in a nod to thank her and partly to escape her touch. “I’ll have your bath ready soon.”

Prowl stood and left to prepare the bath and frowned once he was preparing the tub for his employer’s bath. He was counting the cycles until his time to go, planning carefully every step he would take and the way he would leave his current employer once he got what he wanted.

The joke about the confectionary wasn’t quite so, though. Prowl was still a young mech and treats were still a weakness of his. Perhaps not so much a weakness rather than something he enjoyed greatly, specially the fine and high quality energon confections he could get at her expense. It would be a luxury he probably wouldn’t have at the Academy, so he would have to look into purchasing a recipe data-book.

\----------------------------------

A few cycles later, Prowl was painting a new coat of deep red varnish over his employer’s fingers. She was a vain mech in some regards and since he took better care of her than most of her thugs and quick lays, she indulged in keeping her appearance better than before.

For some reason, though, this day she decided she wanted her fingers completely repainted with a clear coat of red varnish over her pale white color, leaving the hand white with red accents. Prowl applied the coat dutifully, having learned how to after watching his so called competitors do this for each other’s faces and hands on a regular basis.

While he was preoccupied with that task, a message flashed on his HUD and he had to restrain the grin that threatened to spread over his lips.

“I was thinking...perhaps tonight I could give you a treat after all the time you’ve been so good to me.” Prowl commented casually.

“A treat?”

Prowl smiled that sweet, somewhat shy smile that he knew she loved to see. “I know you don’t like to hang at the more exclusive bars in the district because there’s no dancers to entertain you...but I think they suit you better so perhaps...” he dipped his head, his wings flickered lightly. “Perhaps I can offer you some entertainment.”

“Will you dance for me?” She asked, delighted.

Prowl nodded. “I will dance for you.” He had to hold back a triumphant grin at the reaction his offer garnered.

\----------------

Prowl hated this kind of crowded spaces, but he endured it in preparation for his last good bye to his employer. He danced to the many melodies played, sometimes accepting partners, sometimes dancing alone, all a carefully crafted show for the optics that watched his every movement with attention.

He wasn’t a particularly good dancer, but he had enough grace acquired through defending himself and learning how to get in and out of places since he was a newly sparked. Still, he was decent enough to provide her entertainment and the attention of his employer over him was all he wanted at the moment.

Finally, the climax arrived when a singer took to the small stage to perform her melodies live. Prowl had selected this bar for this particular performer and he hoped she’d sing the song he planned to dedicate as his last good bye.

To his luck, she did, and he involved himself on the melody along with everyone on the dance floor. He kept smirking at his employer, moving as boldly and sensually as his frame allowed him, before he began to dance his way away through the crowd.

_‘Stop calling, stop calling I don’t want to talk anymore.’_

He smiled at her over his shoulder, making a little gesture with his hands that matched the singer’s performance as he made his way further and further away from her. She seemed to catch up on what he was doing, and she stood up, trying to push past the crowd to reach her departing ‘employee’, but it was to no avail.

_‘Can call all you want but there’s no one home,’_

Prowl laughed and hummed the melody that was still playing on the background as he all but ran away into the night, waving a little data card that contained his ‘payment’ and then some extras, free from his employer and ready to take on the world in a different place.

“Sorry I cannot hear you, I’m kind of busy.” Prowl smirked and transformed, speeding through the highway, leaving Kaon and his old life behind.


	6. The Art of Deception. (06/??)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He had been unwanted but he willed himself to survive and old tricks are hard to leave behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an AU bunny that I had been keeping under the bunny pile, I don't think it'll be nearly as long as Paint Streaks and Sparkless, but you know how these bunnies tend to be. Several concepts seen through the duration of this fic are inspired by or belong to [](http://snugsbunny.livejournal.com/profile)[snugsbunny](http://snugsbunny.livejournal.com/) and used with permission.

Title: The Art of Deception. (06/??)  
Rating: PG-13  
Warnings: A bit of violence, minor implications of sex, drugs, self flagelation. Eventual slash.  
Characters: Prowl, Inferno, Smokescreen.  
Setting: G1 AU. Borrows shamelessly from IDW and DW elements as necessary.  
Summary: He had been unwanted but he willed himself to survive and old tricks are hard to leave behind.  
Notes: This is an AU bunny that I had been keeping under the bunny pile, I don't think it'll be nearly as long as Paint Streaks and Sparkless, but you know how these bunnies tend to be. Several concepts seen through the duration of this fic are inspired by or belong to [](http://snugsbunny.livejournal.com/profile)[**snugsbunny**](http://snugsbunny.livejournal.com/) and used with permission.

Many thanks to [](http://mmouse15.livejournal.com/profile)[**mmouse15**](http://mmouse15.livejournal.com/) for kindly beta reading this for me. And [](http://wicked3659.livejournal.com/profile)[**wicked3659**](http://wicked3659.livejournal.com/) for her input.

He knew Iacon had to be a city much bigger than Kaon could ever hope to be, but he hadn’t been quite prepared for just how massive and majestic the city was. Everywhere he looked at there was something threatening to overwhelm him with new information to be assimilated, new things to be tried, new looks he only knew from what data books could relay to him, but it was one thing to learn about them in book files and a completely different thing to experience it in the metal.

He couldn’t help but feel he stood out perhaps too much, feeling somewhat insignificant at the same time. He was uncomfortable with the idea of looking so much like an outsider that others might look at him with disdain but more than anything was the fact others would look at him. He enjoyed being discreet and anonymous enough that he could go about his business and wouldn’t attract attention, at least not as heavily as an odd ball of Kaon mechlet like him probably would.

Still, he had come this far and he wasn’t about to turn around and run back to Kaon after all the work and careful planning he put into his coming to Iacon. He was admittedly lost, he only had a few basic maps downloaded to get him from Kaon to Iacon and the address of the Academy but Iacon proved to be far more complex and bigger than he expected it to be and thus was uncertain of where he was currently standing. He was a resourceful mech, and common sense dictated there had to be someplace where he could download a map or at least instructions on how to reach Iacon’s prestigious Academy.

He moved through the crowd as quietly as he could, trying to attract the least attention he could. He was so plain compared to most of the mechs he could see around him. Flying mechs with vibrant or bold color combinations searing through the skies, mechs small and big, short and tall all with striking colors and extremely well kept paintjobs and detailing; and there he was all plain white from tip to toe and the bright red of his chevron as the only splash of color over his whole frame. At that moment he half wished he had retained the vivid pearl blue paintjob or that at least he had taken the time to change his paint job again before departing Kaon.

He decided he would consider that later on once he had familiarized enough with the area to get a proper re-paint to blend in, but for the moment he concentrated in looking for a place where he could get directions. Preoccupied as he was, he didn’t notice where he was going, stumbling again against someone much bigger and much heavier.

“This is starting to become a routine I’m not interested on keeping.” He muttered as he looked up at the rather large mech that was leaning over and offering a hand almost twice as big as Prowl’s head was.

“Sorry mech, I didn’t see ya.”

“It’s quite alright, I was distracted myself.” Prowl accepted the massive hand and allowed himself to take a better look at the rather bright colored mech that he had stumbled upon.

“Ya seem to be new around here, are you lost?”

Prowl grimaced internally, he had hoped his newness to the city wouldn’t be that much obvious but apparently he had no such luck, unless the other mech was just that perceptive. “I am. This is my first time on Iacon.”

“Ahh, yes. Definitely not the kind of frame ya see around here regularly. Name’s Inferno, by the way. What brings you to Iacon?” Inferno made a whistling-like sound and helped Prowl up, giving one quick look at the young mech.

“I’m Prowl and I come from Kaon, and I just came to Iacon because I was accepted into the Academy.” Prowl saw the opportunity to ask for directions and decided he might as well take it. “I am sorry to trouble you, but would it be possible to point me towards the nearest information terminal? I’d like to download a route towards the Academy, I must go to pick up my student identification and other information.”

“The academy?” Inferno smiled and nodded, patting Prowl’s shoulder a little rougher than Prowl would have liked. “I happen to be headed in that direction, I can take ya there.”

Prowl offered a small bow in appreciation. ”I’d appreciate it greatly if you could do that for me. Are you a student, too?”

“Me? I was a student there some time ago, but I’m going back as a teacher. It’s my first period teachin’ so I’m a little nervous.” Inferno turned around and gestured Prowl to follow him. “This way.”

Prowl fell easily into stride with Inferno although his legs couldn’t offer steps as long as Inferno’s did. “May I ask what subject you’ll be teaching?”

“Ya may, and I’m going to be teaching the introduction course to search and rescue protocols and first class emergency response.”

Prowl quirked an optic ridge. “That sounds quite elaborate and complex.”

“Just a little. It’s just laying down the basics, the really complex stuff is touched upon in the advanced courses.” Inferno smiled while he led Prowl towards the academy, taking note of how although Prowl was paying him attention, the wing panels on his back were twitching constantly and seemingly picking up information about their route. “It was hard to be accepted as a teacher here, though, so I’m happy to be able to teach anything, and the introduction course is important.”

“It is hard to be accepted as a teacher as well?” Prowl asked, curious.

“Oh yeah. They have a high standard for their teachers as much as they do for their students. You have a better shot at teaching here if you were a good student in the Academy itself.” Inferno paused and stopped when they reached the block where the Academy was located. “Of course, some mechs are so good at what they do, that they don’t have to apply, the headmaster and board themselves bid for some mechs’ services, like him.” Inferno nudged his head towards a mech that was standing outside the gates, speaking with one of the guards.

Prowl followed Inferno’s gaze and his optics narrowed at the familiar shape of what was without a doubt a Praxian mech. Suddenly, Prowl was glad he had not kept his blue paintjob after all.

“Is he such a good teacher?” Prowl asked, feeling rather uncomfortable with the presence of Praxian mech.

“He’s considered the best teacher in the tactical division.” Inferno made another whistling sound. “He’s so good, that the Iacon staff has to pay him a hefty sum to keep his services here. Mech receives bids from Praxus’ private high class centers to teach there instead. He’s the best paid teacher in the whole academy.”

“Hhmm...” Prowl narrowed his optics to mere slits. He was enrolled into one of the tactical courses, and wasn’t looking forward to interacting with this mech, something already told him this teacher would pose a problem to him, though the nature of the problems he wasn’t sure of just yet.

“His name’s Smokescreen and I’ve heard he’s got quite a high status in Praxus.” Inferno’s optics flickered a couple of times in sudden realization. “Oh...ya said you come from Kaon but your frame is—“

“I was raised in Kaon.” Prowl interrupted Inferno, not wishing to be told he was of obvious Praxian descent. “I thank you for your help, Inferno. Perhaps we will meet again at some point if your course becomes part of required subjects. I must go pick up my information now.”

“Sure thing, Prowl.” Inferno watched the plain white mech stop at the gates and informing his intentions, the guards let him in without question, though Inferno did notice that he was not the only one looking at the Kaon-raised Praxian mech.


	7. The Art of Deception. (07/??)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He had been unwanted but he willed himself to survive and old tricks are hard to leave behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an AU bunny that I had been keeping under the bunny pile, I don't think it'll be nearly as long as Paint Streaks and Sparkless, but you know how these bunnies tend to be. Several concepts seen through the duration of this fic are inspired by or belong to [](http://snugsbunny.livejournal.com/profile)[snugsbunny](http://snugsbunny.livejournal.com/) and used with permission.

Title: The Art of Deception. (07/??)  
Rating: PG-13  
Warnings: A bit of violence, minor implications of sex, drugs, self flagelation. Eventual slash.  
Characters: Prowl, Cliffjumper, Jazz.  
Setting: G1 AU. Borrows shamelessly from IDW and DW elements as necessary.  
Summary: He had been unwanted but he willed himself to survive and old tricks are hard to leave behind.  
Notes: This is an AU bunny that I had been keeping under the bunny pile, I don't think it'll be nearly as long as Paint Streaks and Sparkless, but you know how these bunnies tend to be. Several concepts seen through the duration of this fic are inspired by or belong to [](http://snugsbunny.livejournal.com/profile)[**snugsbunny**](http://snugsbunny.livejournal.com/) and used with permission.

Many thanks to [](http://mmouse15.livejournal.com/profile)[**mmouse15**](http://mmouse15.livejournal.com/) for kindly beta reading this for me. And [](http://wicked3659.livejournal.com/profile)[**wicked3659**](http://wicked3659.livejournal.com/) for her input.

Prowl hadn’t been entirely sure what awaited him at the academy, but being provided with such ample and quite luxurious, at least for his standards, quarters in the academy grounds hadn’t been part of his expectations. He was not complaining, though, he wasn’t sharing the room with a room mate and he had a small studio to do his homework in with a refueling station available and a storage unit for book files and other belongings and another smaller room that served as dorm with a comfortable enough berth and access to a video screen.

It didn’t have its own wash rack but it was fine with him, he had no qualms using the public washracks with the rest of the students. What he had not expected was the order coming from the admission officers that his paintjob was not acceptable and he needed to have it retouched. Prowl had already factored in the necessity of a change to his paint job, but the order still surprised him, and thus he set about finding out a parlour or detail shop that would tend to his virtually all white body.

“What in Primus’ name are you doing here?”

That was a voice he had not missed and wasn’t looking forward to hear the second he stepped out of his new quarters. “Cliffjumper.” He greeted the mech dourly. “Always a pleasure to see you again.”

“Cut the pleasantries, mech. What the slag are you doing here?” Cliffjumper crossed his arms, looking up at the taller mechlet with a decidedly unfriendly expression.

Prowl tilted his helm, stroking the base of his chevron lightly. “I would like to think it’s obvious I’m here with the intention to study and become an academy graduate.”

The mini bot didn’t let go of the subject, though. “How in the pits’ name did you manage to get here?”

Prowl wasn’t exactly in the mood to humor the mini bot any further. “Considering you managed to get in? It wasn’t very difficult to be accepted.” True, Prowl didn’t even have to take the tests, but he was certain he would have passed the tests if he had not taken some other mech’s place. “Now, if you excuse me, I have this pesky requirement of changing my paint job to the officers’ standards and therefore I have no more time to humor the likes of you.”

“What crawled up your tail pipe?” Cliffjumper snarled, more than ready to let the other know he didn’t appreciate the condescending tone.

“Cut the mech some slack, ‘Jumper.”

Prowl and Cliffjumper turned to look at a familiar visored mechlet coming to them with a smile on his lips. “Hi, Prowl.” He wiggled black fingers in greeting, his smile turning into a cheeky grin. “Ya got accepted here, huh? That’s awesome –Oh! It’s fixed,” Jazz’s attention switched to the repaired red chevron, his fingers almost coming to touch the red metal but Jazz remembered Prowl seemed sensitive to the touch the last time he did and took his hand away before he could even brush against it. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

Prowl nodded, his features softened just a tad with Jazz’s presence. “It’s quite alright.”

“It does kind of draw attention to ya, y’know?” Jazz stepped a little closer, crossing his hands behind his back. “Suits ya well.”

Prowl dipped his head a little. “Thank you.”

“So, Cliffjumper, didn’t ya have t’go take your regularization courses?” Jazz turned his attention to his friend, sending off a clear message to remove himself from the area.

“Yeah, I do. I’ll see you around, Jazz.” He waved at Jazz, sparing a moment to give a warning glare at Prowl that things were not over between them yet.

Jazz and Prowl watched the mini bot go and Jazz sighed when he was finally out of sight. “I’m sorry ‘bout him, he’s a little...”

“Tactless?” Prowl supplied.

“Heh, s’one way to put it, but I meant more like he’s just a little rough ‘round the edges. He comes from the rough plains, so he’s naturally wary of other mechs,” Jazz chuckled softly and his visor glowed brightly, Prowl was certain he was giving him a knowing look behind the band of blue glass. “He thought ya were a creep ‘cause you kept lookin’ at us when we came out of class at the Kaon Headquarters.”

“I assure you my observation was mere curiosity.”

Jazz grinned. “Scientific curiosity?”

“I’m no scientist. Let us settle for just the curiosity of an inquisitive processor?” Prowl shrugged, though he did smile a little for Jazz.

“Let us then.” Jazz nodded and pointed at the white mech’s chest. “So...ya mentioned somethin’ about havin’ t’change your paintjob?”

“Yes, the officers decided my paintjob was not...becoming of a student of the prestigious Iacon Academy and needed to be changed.” Prowl looked down at his own chest. “To be honest, I’m not sure what kind of style is acceptable for a student of the academy. Most of the mechs in Iacon seem extremely...bold and vibrant.”

“Well, they don’t want mechs that are like twenty shades of neon colors mashed together, something discrete enough, which you are but ya gotta admit, mech, ya kind of look too plain with just white and the splash of red of that chevron.” Jazz pulled a pad out of his subspace and flipped through the files, finding a map and quickly accessing the coordinates for the place he was looking for. “Here, this is a good place t’get your detailin’ taken care of. I’ll take ya there.”

Prowl nodded his thanks, grateful that he wouldn’t have to go looking around for a decent place and waste precious time in looking around. “You don’t have to, but I appreciate the offer and the company...it’s my first time in Iacon and it’s hard to get by.”

“S’not a problem, Prowl.” Jazz smiled and began to walk away, gesturing Prowl to come with him. They fell into an easy stride, being almost the same height their steps were about as long and made it for a comfortable and enjoyable walk. “Use this place as reference the next time you gotta go out.” Jazz pointed at a single pillar that stood in the middle of the street. It had four ‘sides’, a ring around the middle of it was painted in different colors depending on what direction the paint faced. “Green’s for north, yellow’s for west, white for south and orange for east.” Jazz explained and pointed on the different directions. “The Academy’s six blocks down west. So when ya need t’go back, just remember to go in the direction of the yellow section.”

“Well that certainly is helpful...” Prowl looked up at the pillar. “Was that always its function?”

“Yeah, it was put here for students mainly.”

They walked further on until they reached the detail shop Jazz suggested. “Well mechlet, what do you want done to that paint job?”

“I’m not certain...” Prowl looked through the pages of samples the shop owner had at hand, but he couldn’t find anything that struck his fancy without being overly bold or attention grabbing. After a while, he looked at Jazz and took a moment to admire the way Jazz’s paint job was actually quite nice, discrete but still striking. “Could you design something using black and white? Perhaps some grey?”

The shop owner nodded and asked Prowl to stand on a chamber, taking a capture of every angle of his body. “Sit down. I’ll take a while with this.”

Prowl and Jazz took a seat together and Jazz tilted his head curiously. “Why just black and white?”

Prowl smiled. “I hope you don’t mind but I found the right inspiration standing next to me.”

Jazz chuckled. “Well then, that’s gonna be interestin’.”

Prowl bowed his head. “I hope so.”

Jazz smiled warmly. “No. I’m sure it’ll be.”


	8. The Art of Deception. (08/??)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He had been unwanted but he willed himself to survive and old tricks are hard to leave behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an AU bunny that I had been keeping under the bunny pile, I don't think it'll be nearly as long as Paint Streaks and Sparkless, but you know how these bunnies tend to be. Several concepts seen through the duration of this fic are inspired by or belong to [](http://snugsbunny.livejournal.com/profile)[snugsbunny](http://snugsbunny.livejournal.com/) and used with permission. Yes, there's a couple of mechs I borrowed from other series' but hey, if WFC can have Slipstream...

Title: The Art of Deception. (08/??)  
Rating: PG-13  
Warnings: A bit of violence, minor implications of sex, drugs, self flagelation. Eventual slash.  
Characters: Prowl, Jazz.  
Setting: G1 AU. Borrows shamelessly from IDW and DW elements as necessary.  
Summary: He had been unwanted but he willed himself to survive and old tricks are hard to leave behind.  
Notes: This is an AU bunny that I had been keeping under the bunny pile, I don't think it'll be nearly as long as Paint Streaks and Sparkless, but you know how these bunnies tend to be. Several concepts seen through the duration of this fic are inspired by or belong to [](http://snugsbunny.livejournal.com/profile)[**snugsbunny**](http://snugsbunny.livejournal.com/) and used with permission. Yes, there's a couple of mechs I borrowed from other series' but hey, if WFC can have Slipstream...

Many thanks to [](http://mmouse15.livejournal.com/profile)[**mmouse15**](http://mmouse15.livejournal.com/) for kindly beta reading this for me.

When the shop owner called Prowl over to see the designs he had worked for the mechlet’s paint job, Jazz had no idea what kind of style Prowl was going to go with. Since he had cited he drew inspiration from him Jazz supposed Prowl’s new detailing would look rather similar to his own.

When Prowl stepped out of the booth where he was repainted Jazz couldn’t hold back a whistling sound of admiration. His expectations ended up being nothing like the final product at all. Where Prowl was covered from helm to toe in nothing but white paint, sparing the red metal of his chevron, now Prowl’s frame was comprised of only a small amount of white, enough to bring attention to an otherwise discrete, primarily black and dark grey frame.

The helm and part of his chest and most of his wings were the only parts that remained white, along with a few accents in stark contrast to Jazz’s own scheme where white dominated the black in just the perfect amount to look stylish but also elegant and discrete. It was almost as Prowl’s scheme was the perfect match to his own and he couldn’t help but feel glad for that.

“Lookin’ good.” Jazz grinned at the other mechlet, Prowl dipped his head in thanks and turned to thank the shop owner. After paying for the mech’s services Prowl was ready to head back to the academy’s grounds but Jazz had other ideas.

“The classes of the period won’t start until two cycles. It’ll do ya some good t’get to know the city a little, and I can even let ya download my map of the city to get ‘round.” Jazz offered with a small smile as they left the detail shop.

“You’re being awfully helpful towards someone that is almost a complete stranger to you.” Prowl looked at Jazz with a slightly guarded expression but there was the hint of a smile on his lips.

Jazz shrugged non-plussed. “You’re my school mate now. I’d help ya out on that principle alone. It don’t hurt that I actually like ya.”

Prowl nodded once, offering a little apologetic smile in return. “Of course, I understand. I apologize if my words struck you as rude, you will have to understand we grow to be a little wary of the offers others make to us around in Kaon.”

“Yeah, I getcha. Don’t worry about it.” Jazz smiled and waved the apology off. “C’mon, let’s get some energon shakes, I know jus’ the best place to get some. They’re on me.”

Prowl tilted his head curiously at Jazz’s friendliness but nodded and followed after him. He was usually wary of any kind of offers like this and the friendly attitude of mechs in Kaon due to the underlying intentions that every offer addressed at him ever had. Yet he knew enough about the world outside of Kaon to understand there was true honesty and friendliness in mechs from other parts that weren’t out to get something from him in return, although he was happy that he got that feeling from Jazz.

It didn’t make him any less guarded, however. He didn’t get as far as he was by lowering his defenses around just anyone, especially with that devious processor of his.

“This place makes the best shakes ya gonna find in all o’ Cybertron.” Jazz said happily while he drank some of his own.

“That’s quite a bold statement, don’t you think?” Prowl smiled and sipped his own shake, admitting to himself that it was quite good in fact.

“Bold it might be, but I’ve been to a lotta places an’ let me tell ya, nothin’ I’ve tried so far compares to this.” Jazz waved a hand in a dismissive gesture. “Closest has t’be the shakes m’creator makes, an’ maybe those ya can get in Praxus’ central plaza.”

Prowl’s optics narrowed a little. “You have been to Praxus?”

“Been t’many places, actually. My other creator has taken us t’several places in Cybertron, we’ve even been to Altihex a couple o’ times.” Jazz looked back at Prowl, sucking on the straw-like extension of his shake. “You’re Praxian, right?”

Prowl had to fight back the knee-jerk reaction he always go whenever someone called him a Praxian. “I was created there, but I wasn’t raised in Praxus.”

“Oh? So ya never been t’Praxus before?”

“No.” Prowl looked at Jazz who seemed to be debating between asking Prowl about his past and deciding not to pry. He solved it the best possible way for both, at least for the time being. “It’s not something I like to talk about.”

“I understand.” Jazz nodded and returned to his shake.

Of course Prowl could easily fabricate a background story about himself that was convenient and plausible enough and not entirely deviated from the reality, but he didn’t feel like coming up with one just yet and he really didn’t want to feed Jazz more lies than were necessary. The mechlet was being kind to him and he was definitely content in his presence, there was no need to ruin a good time bringing up things that soured his own mood any time he thought about them.

“So, it’s been fun to travel all around Cybertron?” He asked, trying to change the topic to something lighter and more enjoyable to discuss.

“Oh yeah, it is.”

Prowl and Jazz spent a couple of hours sitting together on the little table of the establishment while Jazz talked animatedly about many things in his life, the travels with his family and the many things he had seen in places Prowl had never dreamed of ever visiting, like Altihex.

Eventually the time to head back to the academy came and both walked back to the institution’s grounds, still deep in amicable conversation. They passed by one of the officers that stopped them for a moment and scanned Prowl for his student ID and nodded in satisfaction.

“Much better. Come to my office tomorrow and I’ll have your profile and ID pictures properly updated.” The officer patted both mechs on the shoulders and continued his way down.

“Well at least ya got t’seal of approval.” Jazz chuckled as the burly officer walked away.

“I believe I had the seal of approval the moment I stepped out of the booth.” Prowl smirked a little at Jazz, the curve of his lips becoming more pronounced when Jazz laughed in good nature about his comment.

“Apparently so.” Jazz tugged Prowl’s arm and they both headed toward the rooming facilities. “So, what classes ya gonna be takin’ first?”

“For my first period in the academy I’ll be taking logistics and statistics, advanced mathematics I, ethics I and historic studies in philosophy.”

“No physical classes this period?”

Prowl pulled his data pad out of subspace and reviewed his schedule again. “I do, in fact.”

“Oh? Whatcha takin’? I’m gonna be in introduction t’metallikato.” Jazz grinned. “With that new teacher, Drift, that I was told is apparently one of the best students of master Yoketron back in Kalis.”

Prowl quirked an optic brow. “Introduction to self defense with, uhm...Lockdown?”

“Ooooh Primus, yer done.” Jazz grinned.

“Would you please elaborate?” Prowl wasn’t feeling particularly comforted by the slightly mischievous nature of that grin.

Jazz shook his helm and patted Prowl’s shoulder. “Lockdown’s known fer breakin’ his students figuratively and literally. If ya can’t survive th’first cycle with him, you ain’t good enough for the rest of the course.” He grinned again. “’Course, if you do survive the first class ya won’t have issue puttin’ up with the rest o’ the course.”

“That’s quite comforting.” Prowl deadpanned and subspaced his pad.

“Count yerself lucky ya didn’t have t’take the course with Ironhide.”

Prowl quirked an optic brow again. “And why would that be more unlucky than having a possible psychopath for teacher?”

Jazz’s grin was downright wicked by this point. “Cliffjumper’s in all his classes.”

“...point.”

Chuckling to themselves the pair headed into the student facilities, discussing the pros and cons of the classes they were due to take.


	9. The Art of Deception. (09/??)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He had been unwanted but he willed himself to survive and old tricks are hard to leave behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an AU bunny that I had been keeping under the bunny pile, I don't think it'll be nearly as long as Paint Streaks and Sparkless, but you know how these bunnies tend to be. Several concepts seen through the duration of this fic are inspired by or belong to [](http://snugsbunny.livejournal.com/profile)[snugsbunny](http://snugsbunny.livejournal.com/) and used with permission.

Title: The Art of Deception. (09/??)  
Rating: PG-13  
Warnings: A bit of violence, minor implications of sex, drugs, self flagelation. Eventual slash.  
Characters: Prowl, Smokescreen.  
Setting: G1 AU. Borrows shamelessly from IDW and DW elements as necessary.  
Summary: He had been unwanted but he willed himself to survive and old tricks are hard to leave behind.  
Notes: This is an AU bunny that I had been keeping under the bunny pile, I don't think it'll be nearly as long as Paint Streaks and Sparkless, but you know how these bunnies tend to be. Several concepts seen through the duration of this fic are inspired by or belong to [](http://snugsbunny.livejournal.com/profile)[**snugsbunny**](http://snugsbunny.livejournal.com/) and used with permission.

Many thanks to [](http://mmouse15.livejournal.com/profile)[**mmouse15**](http://mmouse15.livejournal.com/) for kindly beta reading this for me.

He wasn't particularly nervous about his first day of class. It was the very first time he would attend a formal class in his life but to him it was just a different kind of ambience to the classroom that life on the streets was for him during his entire existence.

He gave a passing glance to his classmates, not really bothering to greet anyone since he didn’t know any of them; from what he could remember, most of them were on their first cycle formally in the academy. He took a seat near the middle of the room, close enough to watch and hear the class clearly but far enough that he wouldn’t be so easily noticeable to the teacher. He wasn’t particularly thrilled about this class in no small part because the instructor was that Praxian mech Inferno told him about. He was already on edge at the thought of being taught by a pompous Praxian mech, but there was something that made him particularly uneasy, possibly that it would be quite difficult to miss the fact he was of Praxian design as well.

Nonetheless, he wasn’t going to let that get in the way, he’ll get the best possible scores he could in this class, get over with it and move onto the next thing that hopefully wouldn’t include Smokescreen in the curriculum.

Everyone in the room were talking amongst themselves, most of them just introducing themselves or talking about where they came from, what they did and so on. Others were trying to impress each other with their achievements, one of which, of course, was to be accepted in the academy. Finally, everyone became silent when the teacher, Smokescreen, strode into the room with a few stacks of data pads carried neatly under one arm. Every student stood up next to their seats waiting for the teacher to introduce himself and permit them to sit once again.

“Sit down.” Smokescreen spoke loud enough to be heard but without raising his voice too much, he set the stacks of pads down on the desk and pointed at one of the students sitting on the first row. “Pass these along to your classmates.”

While the student distributed the pads, Smokescreen stood straight and gave a look around the classroom, his hands held behind his back as he did. “Greetings everyone, this is the introduction class to Logistics and Statistics I. If you are not supposed to be here or decide through this class that you really don’t want to take this course, please return the pad to me after the class and inform me so I can have your names erased from the data list. Remember you have four cycles to process a class change. Any questions?”

The students shook their heads at unison and Smokescreen nodded to himself, satisfied. “Very well. My name is Smokescreen and I will be your instructor for this class. The data pads you’re receiving contain pre-loaded literature proper for the course along with study material and exercise sheets you’ll have to have finalized by the end of this period. It’ll be an important part of your final grades, though I won’t let you know what percentage is assigned to it just yet.”

Smokescreen turned to the digital board where he picked a stylus and began to write something down. When he was finished, he pointed at another student and asked him to read the phrase he just wrote down.

“Logistics means having the right thing, at the right place, at the right time.”

Smokescreen gestured the student to sit back down. “You will become very acquainted with this phrase soon enough, and why logistics and statistics are so closely related. Who can explain what statistics is?”

Against his better judgment Prowl raised his hand. Smokescreen immediately locked his optics on the familiar Praxian frame. He had changed his colors, probably as per the Academy’s request, but it was the same Praxian mechlet he saw a few days ago. “Yes?”

“There are two known interpretations of the definition of statistics, sir. One denominates statistics as a mathematical science that deals with the collection, analysis, interpretation and presentation of data.” Prowl paused for a moment. “However, another interpretation considers statistics as merely a branch of general mathematics concerned with the collection and interpretation of data.”

Smokescreen raised and optics ridge, clearly satisfied that at the very least one of his students was versed enough to understand the basics of what the subject entailed. “And what definition do you support?”

“Statistics is too ample a subject to be considered just a mere branch of mathematics dealing with only collection and interpretation of data, sir. Especially if we consider the intrinsic importance of the appropriate collection, analysis, interpretation and presentation of data represents for logistics.”

Smokescreen rubbed his chin and nodded to himself. “Would you care to explain yourself?”

“You wrote that logistics means having the right thing, at the right place, at the right time. But to have the right thing and meeting the conditions of right place and time, you need to possess detailed data that will let you know what right things you have at your disposal, where and when it is available to you. Therefore, if you need to know what you have in detail to know that you indeed have a thing you can use, when you can use it, where it will be located for your use.” Prowl was gestured to sit down, ignoring the looks from other students that ranged from mildly interested in his words, others seeming to be a tad miffed that he was already shaping up to be the teacher’s pet.

“You have nailed down precisely the kind of relationship that exists between statistics and logistics. I’m glad to find a student that knows this much about this relationship and its importance so early on.” Smokescreen smiled a little, looking somewhat smug. “Of course, I couldn’t expect any less from a fellow Praxian.”

Prowl held back the urge to twitch and scowl deeply at last sentence, getting the impression this teacher was a self important, pompous Praxian just as he predicted. Still, as long as he could finish this course in form and shape, he wouldn’t allow himself to be too bothered by the attitude of the instructor.

“While we can define logistics in relatively simple terms, the discipline has various different uses and the needs that logistics tend to can vary depending of what kind of field it will be applied to. There’s business logistics and of course military logistics...”

Smokescreen continued speaking and giving the introduction to his class’s subject through the remainder of the joor and outlining the class’s program for the rest of the course.

After a while the students were asked to write a short essay on the spot that was to be turned over to Smokescreen for grading. “Don’t be too worried about your essay’s grades. It’s merely an exercise for me to see what is the grasp you have on the subject and we’ll arrange the way the group’s program will be worked out given each student’s specific needs.”

Prowl wrote the essay and waited for a while until a few other students had turned over their own. After having made himself to be noticed by the teacher and students, he really didn’t want to attract any more attention to himself than what was necessary. After turning over his essay, he activated the pad given to them by Smokescreen and began to take a look through the texts and the exercise sheets, deciding he’d get a head start on them later on the evening if he was in working enough condition after Lockdown was through with him.

Smokescreen reviewed the essays as they were handed over, taking notes with each student’s name to determine how to adapt the course to the student’s needs. When he got to Prowl’s essay, he quirked an optic brow, smirking to himself while he took down notes about the mech. He couldn’t help but look over at Prowl again, since he saw him for the first time he found himself curious about this young mech. Not only was his chevron untapered, which usually meant a mech of a high standing or a high status amongst Praxians, but there was the fact he didn’t know about Prowl’s entrance to the Academy and assignment to his class until he stepped in.

A subject that he would broach with Prowl later on. For the time being, Smokescreen contented himself with knowing he was going to have a model student for his class, and much to his pride it would be the only Praxian mech on the course.


	10. The Art of Deception. (10/??)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He had been unwanted but he willed himself to survive and old tricks are hard to leave behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an AU bunny that I had been keeping under the bunny pile, I don't think it'll be nearly as long as Paint Streaks and Sparkless, but you know how these bunnies tend to be. Several concepts seen through the duration of this fic are inspired by or belong to [](http://snugsbunny.livejournal.com/profile)[snugsbunny](http://snugsbunny.livejournal.com/) and used with permission.

Title: The Art of Deception. (10/??)  
Rating: PG-13  
Warnings: A bit of violence, minor implications of sex, drugs, self flagelation. Eventual slash.  
Characters: Prowl, Lockdown, Jazz.  
Setting: G1 AU. Borrows shamelessly from IDW and DW elements as necessary.  
Summary: He had been unwanted but he willed himself to survive and old tricks are hard to leave behind.  
Notes: This is an AU bunny that I had been keeping under the bunny pile, I don't think it'll be nearly as long as Paint Streaks and Sparkless, but you know how these bunnies tend to be. Several concepts seen through the duration of this fic are inspired by or belong to [](http://snugsbunny.livejournal.com/profile)[**snugsbunny**](http://snugsbunny.livejournal.com/) and used with permission.

Many thanks to [](http://mmouse15.livejournal.com/profile)[**mmouse15**](http://mmouse15.livejournal.com/) for kindly beta reading this for me. I tried to get Lockdown's speech to be somewhat similar to his TFA Speech patterns but not too much. And no, he's got no hook or missmatched parts.

  
To say he wasn’t impressed and even a little worried over the ‘tone’ of Lockdown’s teaching would have been an absolute lie. In fact, as Prowl watched Lockdown make fast work of one of the youngest students, Prowl couldn’t help but wonder how in the Pit’s name he was going to survive when his turn came.

Oh, he was capable of defending himself and the life in Kaon had prepared him quite efficiently for getting himself as unscathed as possible of any quarrel. That, though, usually implied a healthy amount of dirty fighting, and revealing his own modifications, which he was certain would raise a few questions and suspicions from his classmates and the Academy officials if they were to find out. After all, Prowl was sure claw modifications to his fingers was not a standard mod for goody Academy students.

He could have easily claimed life in Kaon wasn’t easy and the modification became a necessity but he really didn’t want to reveal too much of what his life in Kaon had forced upon him. After all, he came to the Academy with the intent of creating a new life for himself and getting away from Kaon, and dwelling too much into his former life was something he’d rather not do.

After Lockdown thrashed one of the largest students, the black mech with green accents looked around the gathered mechlets, pondering which one should be put to the test now. His red optics locked on Prowl, recognizing immediately the Praxian frame. Lockdown had a very low opinion of most of the Praxian mechs that had been unfortunate enough to be in his classes, most of the time they were at a severe disadvantage as they could be clumsy on their feet for his aggressive fighting style, or the wing panels or fins most of them possessed proved to be a weakness.

“You, get to th’ square now.” Lockdown grunted with a heavy accent. He was certain he was going to crush this one, too, like he had with all others.

As Prowl stood obediently on the middle of the fighting square, Lockdown moved around him, circling him to give a good look to his frame type, giving special attention to the wing panels. He was certain this one wasn’t going to fare well at all. “Warn ya, kid. I ain’t gonna hold back or go easy on ya.”

“I do not expect you to, sir.” Prowl stood unmoving, following with his optics and the sensor array of his wings the movements of his instructor as he circled around him.

“I don’ fight fair either, kid. Expect th’unexpected.” Lockdown continued to circle around Prowl. Going for the wings first would be the easiest thing and would make for a lousy show, well aware many Praxians could be rendered completely useless by applying excessive pressure to the sensory panels, specially the closer one got to the wing joint.

“I’m aware of that, sir.” Prowl kept all his sensor scans on Lockdown. He was certain Lockdown was looking at his panels and wondering whether or not he would attack Prowl’s wings directly. Finally, when Lockdown took a decision it seemed he would go for the wings indeed, but mid swipe he changed directions to grab at his arm instead. Prowl ducked out of the path of Lockdown’s arm and took two steps back, turning around so he was facing the ninja.

“Hmm, good reflexes, kid.” The instructor smirked and took a step back, adopting a more appropriate position and gesturing with his fingers for Prowl to attack him. “Now let’s see what y’can do at th’offensive.”

Prowl knew Lockdown was trying to bait him into showing what he had to offer, and a moment to allow the instructor to analyze his fighting prowess and elaborate proper counterattacks that were likely to leave him with his face plate in close quarters with the floor of the fighting square. He needed to be intelligent and deceptive so he could be able to surprise Lockdown and come out of the match somewhat functional still without giving away all the dirty tricks he had learned on the streets of Kaon.

He stood there for a moment, taking a standard offensive position and flicked his wing panels, gauging the moment. For a few moments it seemed as if neither of them were going to attack until Prowl took a few quick steps forward and lowered himself in the last moment to try to swipe his leg over Lockdown’s and trip him. It didn’t work, as Lockdown jumped back out of the way, and took his arm, throwing him to the other side of the square. Prowl regained his balance before he could fall and tried again with a more direct attack, aiming for the instructor’s mid-section, managing to duck another swipe from Lockdown.

“Not bad kid, but that stuff’s pretty amateur. Typically Praxian.”

Prowl gritted his dental plates at the jab, hating the implication of weakness and attributing it to being of Praxian make. He lunged at Lockdown once more, this time taking advantage of the speed his smaller frame gave him and allowed Lockdown to trap him in his arms into what looked like a real crushing hold. “That was really stupid, kid. S’one way t’get yerself slagged real good.”

Prowl used his knees to try to push himself free of Lockdown’s hold but the instructor’s superior size and strength turned his efforts futile and useless. “Not gonna get outta the deathlock like that, kid.”

“Well then...” Prowl growled softly and reared his head back then brought his forehead hard against Lockdown’s with a loud ‘clank’. The reaction was immediate and Lockdown cried in pain, releasing the mechlet to bring his hands to hold his aching head.

Prowl collapsed to his knees, and barely held himself upright with an arm while the other hand held onto his somewhat dented mid section trying to ease away the pain and summon enough energy to stand up. He could go on and stand up, bringing his claws up to get the instructor down while he was being distracted, but that would be giving away too much and at the moment he was just focusing in keeping up appearances. None of his fellow students had fared well and he wasn’t going to upstage them so blatantly right now, it’d only draw unwanted attention to him.

“That was quite bold of ya, mechlet.” Lockdown, muttered with a smirk. “I gotta admit I hadn’t expected that.”

Prowl panted in real pain but also keeping up his act. “It was the only opening I could get to free myself.”

“Yer crafty, I’ll give ya that.”  
Prowl waited with his wing panels twitching constantly to keep tabs on the instructor, on the look out for another blow, should Lockdown try it.

Lockdown gestured a couple of the students to the fighting square to help Prowl up. “Don’t worry kid, I’m lettin’ ya go fer now. I gotta give it t’ya, ya got ball bearings.”

“Thank you, sir.” Prowl winced, hoping the damage to him wouldn’t mean a trip to the medical bay. He wanted to avoid going there for as long as he could.

“Jus’ make sure ya get enough rest, yer self repair will take care o’ the dents.” Lockdown studied Prowl carefully, he didn’t seem all that strong and battle-ready, but he knew better than to go only on appearances. Prowl definitely seemed to be a quick thinker and resourceful, with proper training he could make a much better combatant.

“Jazz, I told ya a million times t’stop peekin’ into my class.” Lockdown glared at one of the rows of locker rooms containing supplies. “Get yer aft over here an’ do somethin’ useful, take yer friend back t’his quarters. I’m done wit’ him fer the time being.”

Jazz grinned a cheeky grin as he peeked from behind one of the lockers. “Sorry!”

“Jazz?” Prowl looked up at his friend when the other black and white mechlet came to his side, helping him to stand up. “What are you doing here?”

“Finished class with Drift early, and decided t’come an’ take a look at how the massacre was goin’.” He grinned at Lockdown who shook his head and would have rolled his optics if the action had been possible.

“Jus’ get yer aft outta my classroom.”

“Yessir!” Jazz saluted and helped Prowl out of the room. When they were back at Prowl’s quarters, Jazz procured him a cube of energon and gauged the damage to Prowl’s abdomen. “Mmm....he really went out on ya, but it ain’t anythin’ that yer self repair can’t work out. The dents ain’t deep enough.”

Prowl flinched a little in pain when Jazz’s black fingers touched the dents to assess the damage. “I thought it would be something I can sleep off.”

“Gotta admit I’m impressed, though.” Jazz smiled and patted Prowl’s dented side gently. “I thought ya might butt heads with Lockdown at some point, but never though ya’d go literal ‘bout it.”

Prowl smiled a little. “I cannot help it, I can be a very literal mech.”

Jazz laughed softly at the joke and patted Prowl’s shoulder. “Well then, jus’ don’t make it a habit with other teachers. Not all of ‘em take kindly ta a literal head buttin’.”

Prowl couldn’t help but picture himself doing just that with Smokescreen and smirked with a chuckle. “Yes, I’m afraid so. Quite a shame, but I don’t wish to be discharged on such dishonorable grounds.”

Jazz laughed and shook his head. “Yer a devious mech, Prowler.”

“Am I?”

“Yeah,” Jazz’s laughter subsided but he continued to smile at Prowl. “I like that.”

Prowl merely allowed himself to smile wider. “I’m glad.”


	11. The Art of Deception. (11/??)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He had been unwanted but he willed himself to survive and old tricks are hard to leave behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an AU bunny that I had been keeping under the bunny pile, I don't think it'll be nearly as long as Paint Streaks and Sparkless, but you know how these bunnies tend to be. Several concepts seen through the duration of this fic are inspired by or belong to [](http://snugsbunny.livejournal.com/profile)[snugsbunny](http://snugsbunny.livejournal.com/) and used with permission.

Title: The Art of Deception. (11/??)  
Rating: PG-13  
Warnings: A bit of violence, minor implications of sex, drugs, self flagelation. Eventual slash.  
Characters: Prowl, Smokscreen.  
Setting: G1 AU. Borrows shamelessly from IDW and DW elements as necessary.  
Summary: He had been unwanted but he willed himself to survive and old tricks are hard to leave behind.  
Notes: This is an AU bunny that I had been keeping under the bunny pile, I don't think it'll be nearly as long as Paint Streaks and Sparkless, but you know how these bunnies tend to be. Several concepts seen through the duration of this fic are inspired by or belong to [](http://snugsbunny.livejournal.com/profile)[**snugsbunny**](http://snugsbunny.livejournal.com/) and used with permission.

Many thanks to [](http://mmouse15.livejournal.com/profile)[**mmouse15**](http://mmouse15.livejournal.com/) for kindly beta reading this for me and [](http://wicked3659.livejournal.com/profile)[**wicked3659**](http://wicked3659.livejournal.com/) for her input.

  
For several deca-cycles life seemed to be quite good. Surviving the first class with Lockdown led Prowl to actually being able to participate in Lockdown’s course thoroughly and learned quite a few things he didn’t know, and how to do things he knew in different ways. It was by far one of his favorite classes and one he found most useful.

He had good grades during his first period in all his subjects, but made a point to keep his scores somewhere along the ‘high-average’ intending to meld into the group of students the best he could. He didn’t have many friends amongst his classmates but got along well with most of them. Not only did he need that interaction in order to meld but also to weed out what students he could use to his advantage if the need did arise.

He had a considerable sum of currency to his name and the Academy provided everything he needed, but old habits were hard to get rid of and more than once Prowl had to restrain himself from cassually acquiring data cards and random belongings of his class mates, not because he needed them or he was compulsive about stealing something but just because he _could_ and because the thrill of trying to take someone else’s possessions or currency without being caught. It was a habit that he carried with him for almost all his life, and it was hard to weed himself out of it.

He wasn’t holding back just to start a fresh life in Iacon; he wasn’t that good of a mech, and certainly hardly ethical and moral considering how he got himself into the Academy. No, he just wanted to succeed and bid his time for when he could get away with his more juvenile behavior, or what he considered was juvenile. He wanted to forge himself a new life, and his old habits and his old life would be just additional skills to get himself where he wanted to be.

Which called into question what was what Prowl wanted to be. Ironically, he had gone into the academy without a clear idea of what kind of career to pursuit, but the more he hung around with Jazz, the more he became interested in the most unlikely and ironical of professions. An enforcer.

But Prowl himself knew life wasn’t going to be a flawless, smooth walk through the local gardens, and Smokescreen proved him right the cycle their first test results were delivered.

“I’m fairly pleased with all of you. A few students will need to work a little harder in the course to pass with good scores, but overall you’re all doing great.” Smokescreen moved around the room, handing pads containing detailed reviews of each student’s exams along with the scores, highlighting strengths and weakness and offering advice to improve their scores.

He made a point to leave Prowl for last, and he gave him a pointed look along with a smirk when he delivered a perfect score for his exam. “Of course, there’s a few that need little improvements to get excellent scores, and I would expect no less from such students.”

Prowl had once again to restrain himself from reacting to the clear baiting Smokescreen was throwing at him. Over the past few deca-cycles Smokescreen seemed to have noticed Prowl’s tension whenever his Praxian make was brought up and the most devious side of the teacher set about discovering the reasons behind the young mech’s apparent discomfort about his Praxian origins. It was something that in Smokescreen’s opinion he should be very proud about, rather than act with such discomfort.

Smokescreen’s baiting however, only managed to make Prowl dislike him more and more, and feel further disgusted about his own Praxian appearance. By this point it was only Jazz’s like of his chevron and wing panels what kept him from trying to get himself modified enough so he wouldn’t look like a pure Praxian.

“That’s all for today, you may retire.” Smokescreen headed back to his desk. “Oh, except you, Prowl. I’d like to have a word with you.”

Prowl held back a groan as he nodded and dutifully strolled to the teacher’s desk, sitting on the front line right across from Smokescreen. “Yes, sir?”

Smokescreen waited until all the students had left and he turned back to look at Prowl, remotely closing the door to avoid anyone trying to peep in. “I’ll go straight to the matter, Prowl.” Smokescreen interlaces his fingers and rested his elbows on the table, covering his mouth with his hands. “I am intrigued. You seem to be quite...uncomfortable with the praises I sing for you. It’s the first time I've encountered such a thing.”

Prowl didn’t want to have this conversation at all but knew he had to respond. He decided to go for a half truth. “I am uncomfortable that the praises you sing to my name seem to be strongly based on my frame type, sir.”

“That you’re Praxian.” Smokescreen stated Prowl’s roundabout wording.

“That my frame type is of Praxian origin.” Prowl corrected Smokescreen.

Smokescreen smirked, he couldn’t help but find it a tad amusing Prowl was trying so hard not to call himself a Praxian. “There you go, avoiding accepting your Praxian heritage. Why is that?”

“I’m not Praxian.” Prowl’s lips set into a thin line, muttering his response.

“Your frame type says otherwise. And that chevron marks someone of a high ranking, either by social status or personal capacities that go beyond the average Praxian population.” Smokescreen smirked. “I’m of the good mind of assuming your chevron is untapered because of the latter rather than the prior.”

“Untapered?” Prowl’s optics flickered in confusion.

Smokescreen’s optics widened in surprise, not at all expecting Prowl to be ignorant of the chevron traditions. “You don’t know about the tapering of a Praxian’s chevron?”

“Jazz mentioned he had never seen an untapered chevron, but that’s all I know about the subject.”

“Where exactly did you grow up?” Smokescreen’s optics narrowed in understanding, Prowl had not been raised in Praxus; that had to be obvious if he didn’t know about the conventions of a chevron’s length and tapering.  
Prowl shifted a little, unsure whether he should reveal his city of origin or not, but decided he might as well be honest about that, even if he did not intend to reveal the kind of upbringing he had. “I was raised in Kaon, sir.”

“Kaon?” Smokescreen gasped. “Were your progenitors not Praxian?”

Prowl couldn’t help the twitch of his lips as he tried to hold back a sneer of disgust. “They must be, I suppose. I wasn’t raised by any Praxian in my family, sir.”

“That would certainly explain...” Smokescreen shook his head and decided he’d need to do some investigation later on but would let Prowl go for now. “We’ll continue with this conversation later on, you may go for now.”

Prowl nodded politely and made his way out of the classroom getting the distinctive impression that the conversation wasn’t over in the least and he couldn’t help but shake the feeling it wasn’t going to get any better for him.


	12. The Art of Deception. (12/??)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He had been unwanted but he willed himself to survive and old tricks are hard to leave behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an AU bunny that I had been keeping under the bunny pile, I don't think it'll be nearly as long as Paint Streaks and Sparkless, but you know how these bunnies tend to be. Several concepts seen through the duration of this fic are inspired by or belong to [](http://snugsbunny.livejournal.com/profile)[snugsbunny](http://snugsbunny.livejournal.com/) and used with permission. Glitchbuzzard is courtesy of [](http://nkfloofiepoof.livejournal.com/profile)[nkfloofiepoof](http://nkfloofiepoof.livejournal.com/)

Title: The Art of Deception. (12/??)  
Rating: PG-13  
Warnings: A bit of violence, minor implications of sex, drugs, self flagelation. Eventual slash.  
Characters: Prowl, Jazz, Smokscreen, Drift, Lockdown.  
Setting: G1 AU. Borrows shamelessly from IDW and DW elements as necessary.  
Summary: He had been unwanted but he willed himself to survive and old tricks are hard to leave behind.  
Notes: This is an AU bunny that I had been keeping under the bunny pile, I don't think it'll be nearly as long as Paint Streaks and Sparkless, but you know how these bunnies tend to be. Several concepts seen through the duration of this fic are inspired by or belong to [](http://snugsbunny.livejournal.com/profile)[**snugsbunny**](http://snugsbunny.livejournal.com/) and used with permission. Glitchbuzzard is courtesy of [](http://nkfloofiepoof.livejournal.com/profile)[**nkfloofiepoof**](http://nkfloofiepoof.livejournal.com/)

Many thanks to [](http://mmouse15.livejournal.com/profile)[**mmouse15**](http://mmouse15.livejournal.com/) for kindly beta reading this for me and [](http://wicked3659.livejournal.com/profile)[**wicked3659**](http://wicked3659.livejournal.com/) for her input. I apologize for the lack of updates, a lot of real life and failures in the power supply made getting some ficcage done a true challenge. But here's again, Art of Deception.

  
Smokescreen re-read through the information displaying on his terminal's screen, having read this same piece of information at least ten times by now as a frown marred his features. Things were just not adding up to him and it was becoming an object of concern for him, given that he'd never encountered a situation such as this.

Smokescreen was one of the most privileged teachers currently belonging to the academic body in Iacon's prestigious academy, and he held no false modesty about just how good and very sought after a teacher he was. Iacon had to make many concessions in his favor to keep his interest in teaching for the institution as many of Praxus' institutes kept trying to gain his services; it was only through the benefits he was given at Iacon that he didn't return to his beloved home city.

He was so sought after in Praxus that a couple of times the schools had considered changing their entire academic schedule just to fit time for Smokescreen to work at Iacon and Praxus but the move proved to be unpopular amongst the highest ranking families that did not want to have their entire plans to go askew for one teacher alone; and instead the best that could be achieved was for Smokescreen to give a series of lectures on select occasions, and always to a lecture room filled to max capacity.

Amongst the demands he made to the staff in order to remain a member of their academic body, Smokescreen requested that every single prospective student of Praxian origin that applied for the entrance exams would be sent to him for their examination. His request had been granted but was warned that if a student did not want to present the entrance exams with him, the student's wishes would be honored before his own. Smokescreen understood a few students could find themselves nervous to be tested by a fellow Praxian and others might think being tested by him would grant them an unfair advantage even if Smokescreen prided himself on being impartial and fair in his testing.

He tried to keep that possibility in mind and keep an open mind about what the records were showing to him, but ultimately, it was a very, very strange situation and he suspected it was only going to get worse before it got any better.

"Just who are you, Prowl?" Smokescreen muttered as he looked through what records were available in the Academy's network over and over again, getting the distinctive feeling he was opening a proverbial can of worms.

During the following weeks he kept an optic on Prowl during class and after class as much as he could get away with but made a point to publicly show the least interest as possible for the time being, studying how Prowl responded to his gradual lack of interest. Against his original expectations, Smokescreen took notice that Prowl seemed to thrive on being left alone. He had good grades in all his classes, a few less spectacularly so than others, but he was overall one of the best students of his grade, but now that Smokescreen had seemingly backed down on his interest and exaltation of his student, Prowl seemed to truly shine. He was just a little more social and seemed to be particularly adept at helping other students out. And more often than not he spent some of his free time with the teachers Drift and Lockdown to work on his close combat skills.

Smokescreen felt a little disappointed that Prowl would find interest in hand to hand combat when Praxians were well known for being exceptional shooters. However he considered that Prowl would likely find more interest on firearms once he took that class.

It was then, too when Smokescreen took notice of another development that he wasn't particularly approving of either. He was aware Prowl had a closer friendship with Jazz, they seemed to know each other from some other place and thus stuck together more often than not, but for the most part it seemed just a common friendship. But lately that friendship seemed to be developing into something more and while Smokescreen didn't have anything personal against Jazz, he wasn't someone Smokescreen considered proper dating material for a Praxian.

It wasn't uncommon that Praxians dated mechs from other cities and builds, but they rarely were more than just some flirting or casual relationships. The higher the rank of a Praxian, the more unlikely it was they would seek the company of a non-Praxian or at least a mech of a different origin that was of a very good standing. Something he was sure Jazz wasn't just yet. Smokescreen knew Jazz was a good enough student and had his spark in the right place, he was just not in league for someone of the status he was sure Prowl had or would be if he had grown in Praxus. But there was little he could do about that development without directly interfering and he was sure Prowl would not take to that intervention kindly.

Still, just the fact Prowl seemed to be disregarding all that a Praxian mech was, and the pride of their elite city and customs baffled and worried Smokescreen. Many of his colleagues didn't understand why Smokescreen was so concerned for the youths of his own city, but Smokescreen was a traditionalist as were the majority of Praxians. Teachers and tutors were considered almost as important in the formation of a young Praxian as were their progenitors, and it was their duty to exalt the virtues of being created a Praxian, and induce them to feel pride for their origins and how far their city had come from its more humble origins many generations ago.

It was thus why Prowl's attitude towards his Praxian heritage bothered and concerned him, and he suspected there was more to it than just being raised outside of Praxus. He had tried to find what information he could about Prowl's family, but the school registries tended to lack information about the family, focusing the data solely on the applicant and its academic history. The access from Iacon to Kaon's census and registered citizens' data was limited, and it was well known that Kaon's offices were rather lax in their upkeep and update of the information, so it wouldn't be surprising if he couldn't find much more than maybe their names or an address, but did not find even that. Smokescreen wondered at first if Prowl's creators were just Praxians that left the city due to commitments somewhere else, but found nothing at all that could link Prowl to any family of Praxian origin. It was almost as if Prowl did not exist at all.

That brought up the possibility that Prowl had been given away in adoption, it wasn't unheard of that some newly sparked would be placed under the care of adoptive families. Sometimes families of Praxian mechs, in other opportunities it was under the care of mechs that had no relation to Praxus whatsoever. It was more than likely Prowl was raised by mechs not of Praxian origin and not versed enough in the customs to pass down the knowledge to Prowl. There were still things about Prowl's presence in the Academy that were bothersome and were just not adding up, and he couldn't help suspicions arising for every unanswered question that Prowl's enigma posed to him.

Smokescreen wasn't the only mech that observed Prowl, and that also observed Smokescreen for that matter.

Drift smirked at Lockdown while they engaged in a mock combat, a dance that was as dangerous as it was beautiful. "That fraggin' Praxian's watchin' the kid again." Lockdown muttered between swipes of his large fists gracing the air next to Drift's slimmer form. "Tempted t'just go there an' lay the smack down on him."

Drift laughed softly, blocking every punch and kick swiftly and precisely. "Are we fond and protective of our student?"

Lockdown snorted. "Not interested on his aft, plus I got a nicer one within my reach." Drift laughed again and blocked yet another kick, taking on the offence now and sending Lockdown a couple of steps back to duck and block Drift's speedy barrage of kicks and punches.

"While the compliments are appreciated, I suggest we reserve the lewd commentary for a more private setting. Now," Drift barely spared a glance to where he could see Smokescreen's form retreating. "What bothers you about Smokescreen?"

"He's stickin' th'olfactory sensors too deep in business that ain't his own. He's trackin' down on the kid, he thinks he's been all inconspicuous, but I can read the signs."

Drift made a non-committal sound, back flipping and rushing forward for another series of kicks as soon as one foot found support on the ground. "Why do you think he is investigating Prowl? It does seem like an inordinate amount of effort being spent on an ordinary enough student."

Lockdown snorted again. "Oh, knock it off. Ya know as well as I do that Prowl ain't an ordinary student. That kid's not from the same walk of life as th'rest of the brats here."

"There's more to him than he lets others see."

"Don't care how th'kid got in. Jus' care that he's good an' that glitchbuzzard Praxian is sniffin' things he shouldn't." Lockdown grunted as Drift got him into a lock he was having difficulty getting off of.

"You're worried Smokescreen might uncover something that could have Prowl expelled." Drift smiled as he managed to submit Lockdown in what the other instructor had affectionately referred to as 'deathlock'. "I find that highly unlikely, but I am sure it is going to set Prowl on edge. Things might get rocky." Drift's grip tightened. "So, yield?"

"S'one way to put it." Lockdown grunted and nodded, accepting his defeat.

Drift smirked. "Ah-ah. Say it."

"Yer a fraggin' sadist."

Drift leaned closer to Lockdown's helm. "You know you like it."

Lockdown sighed and acquiesced "I yield." Just like that, Drift let him go and helped him up. "Hope ya don't teach that one t'Jazz."

"Why is that?" Drift touched over Lockdown's joint to make sure he hadn't damaged it involuntarily.

"I kinda like th'idea of Prowl doin' the domination there."

Drift sputtered. "You do not know the meaning of the word shame, do you?"

"Shame? Not in my personal dictionary." There were some times when Drift wished he could really wipe that smug slag-eating grin off Lockdown's face.

"Yes, well. You might be jumping to conclusions about them. After all, they're just friends." The two mechs left the open training grounds and headed for the cafeteria to refuel and cool down after their work out. "Close friends I'll admit, but still...it's all they are for now."

Lockdown walked alongside Drift, rubbing his slightly sore joint "Might be th'case, but I know a mech in love when I see it, an' I tell ya, Drift...This ain't just friendship anymore."

"Admittedly, I think it might mean more to Prowl than it could to other mechs. He seems quite guarded."

Lockdown sighed; he was familiar with the kind of personality he found in the young Kaon-raised mech. "I toldja he ain't from the same walk of life as th'kids here, this is big for him. Real big."

"Well then," Drift sighed, patting Lockdown's back sympathetically. "I hope that Jazz does understand what Prowl is lying in his hands, and thinks it through before he involves himself with someone as complicated as Prowl."

Lockdown grunted and nodded. "They'll deal. It's that Praxian glitch I'm more concerned about."

"Don't do anything brash, Lockdown. Remember that Smokescreen does have a better standing in this institution than the majority of us."

"I know."

\----------------------------

"...Then, you multiply these digits and divide by this here. That's how you solve this problem." Prowl explained patiently as Jazz solved the problems with his help. "The method your teacher gave you is a little too contrived, I'm not sure why he wasn't just straightforward."

"He kinda likes t'complicate things. S'his way, I suppose." Jazz grinned and finished his homework. "All done now! Thank ya, Prowl. I'd be up with this until recharge time an' still not be done."

"You're welcome, Jazz." Prowl smiled a little, which was a common occurrence when he was hanging with Jazz. "We don't want you missing on the party, do we?"  
Jazz ginned and nodded enthusiastically, then sobered a little. "No chance to convince ya t'come over with us?"

Prowl shook his head. A party had been planned for that night by one of Jazz's friends and would be held in the mech's family's home that wasn't too far from the Academy. "I'm sorry but I have other commitments."

Jazz didn't bother to hide his disappointment but accepted it "Anythin' fun, I hope?"

"Depends on your definition of fun." Prowl smiled a little, and took Jazz's hand, squeezing it gently. "I'm sorry to miss out, I'll make it up to you later on, but another student recommended me to his creators to tutor his younger sibling. I agreed to it before I was told about the party."

Jazz chuckled and squeezed Prowl's hand back. "Yeah, that sounds like loads o' fun."

"I'll treat you to a shake with the fruits of my boredom and hard labor?" Prowl looked at Jazz hopeful, barely holding back the laughter his own words instilled on him.

Jazz, though, did not restrain himself and laughed unbidden at the deadpan delivery of Prowl's self inflicted mocking. "A shake will do." Jazz managed between juvenile giggles.

"It's a deal then. I should get going now I need to wash up before I go." Prowl didn't really want to part with Jazz's company but he knew he had to. "I'll see you later. Have fun, Jazz"

"Yeah, I will. Don't work yourself too hard." Jazz escorted Prowl to the door and waved him off, sighing a little when Prowl was out of sight. He really would have liked to go to that party with Prowl but knew Prowl always honored his commitments whether for fun or for more serious reasons, and Jazz wouldn't want him any other way.

What Jazz did not know was that Prowl had less than honorable intentions when he accepted to tutor for the struggling sibling of a fellow student. The mech came from a very wealthy family that was known for sponsoring the Academy with generous donations in funds and materials, and the hopes were set on Prowl to help their struggling youngest to be up to form for the admission exams to another prestigious middle school that would be the pit stop before the Iacon Academy that would no doubt accept the young one but whether he would graduate or not was up in the air.

The mechling would be left alone at home in their impressive state and the opportunity and challenge that presented itself were far too tempting for the thrill seeking Prowl that was more than eager to take on the posed opportunity. Whatever misdemeanor was being concocted by his processors had the chevroned mechlet smirking to himself as he headed for the wash racks.


	13. The Art of Deception. (13/??)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He had been unwanted but he willed himself to survive and old tricks are hard to leave behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an AU bunny that I had been keeping under the bunny pile, I don't think it'll be nearly as long as Paint Streaks and Sparkless, but you know how these bunnies tend to be. Several concepts seen through the duration of this fic are inspired by or belong to [](http://snugsbunny.livejournal.com/profile)[snugsbunny](http://snugsbunny.livejournal.com/) and used with permission.

Title: The Art of Deception. (13/??)  
Rating: PG-13  
Warnings: A bit of violence, minor implications of sex, drugs, self flagellation. Eventual slash.  
Characters: Prowl, Jazz, Unnamed Mech.  
Setting: G1 AU. Borrows shamelessly from IDW and DW elements as necessary.  
Summary: He had been unwanted but he willed himself to survive and old tricks are hard to leave behind.  
Notes: This is an AU bunny that I had been keeping under the bunny pile, I don't think it'll be nearly as long as Paint Streaks and Sparkless, but you know how these bunnies tend to be. Several concepts seen through the duration of this fic are inspired by or belong to [](http://snugsbunny.livejournal.com/profile)[**snugsbunny**](http://snugsbunny.livejournal.com/) and used with permission.

Many thanks to [](http://mmouse15.livejournal.com/profile)[**mmouse15**](http://mmouse15.livejournal.com/) for kindly beta reading this for me I apologize for the lack of updates again, Power failures and real life stuff have been hell bend in making it a Mission Impossible to update again.

  
Navigating Iacon had become a simpler task since Jazz had so helpfully downloaded a copy of Iacon’s map into his pad. It wasn’t just any standard map either, Jazz was extremely detailed when he compiled the map’s landmarks, and Prowl had briefly wondered how or why Jazz knew where the exotic joints and night clubs were located with such detail. Of course Prowl knew it was normal for mechs to seek their fun wherever they could but Jazz didn’t seem the kind to go to the most sordid places Iacon had to offer. That was more Prowl’s kind of joint and hardly for personal pleasure. Some time he’d muster the bluntness to ask his friend about that, but that time was not now.

Prowl smiled to himself in amusement, it had become so natural for him to think about Jazz as a friend, as a true and perhaps his only friend, the only mech he was willing to allow to come close enough for Prowl to maybe eventually share a few secrets with. Prowl had admitted to Jazz he had a profound distaste for his Praxian heritage and that it derived from being left behind by his creators in Kaon, but he had not shared the kind of life he led there nor how he had to grow up, nor did he mention whether or not he had been raised by other relatives or adoptive parents. It was already quite a show of trust and value towards Jazz that Prowl did not outright lie to Jazz, he merely omitted to mention specific details, or explained some things ambiguously enough to be honest without telling Jazz of his darker deeds.

Some times he could tell Jazz sensed there was more to his stories and his past than what Prowl was sharing and that it was because Prowl did not want to share them, but he never pushed or tried to pry further. Jazz respected his choices and reasons and Prowl greatly appreciated that and found it one of Jazz’s more endearing traits, his original unexplainable fondness for the visored mech grew further thanks to that into a territory that was quickly becoming more than just fondness but that Prowl wasn’t quite sure how to demonstrate.

Hanging out with Jazz had become so important and cherished by him that the other mech became an important factor on his behavior within the Academy. He was well behaved and mingled in as much as he could, but while that was motivated in part for his desire to get through the academy without incidents and forge a new life for himself, be something else than what he had been in Kaon. But alongside with his personal goal, his good behavior obeyed much simpler motives; he wanted Jazz to be able to hang around with him and not be labeled or being troubled by others because he was friends with a trouble maker, with the young delinquent.

But old habits die hard and it was why he jumped on this opportunity when it was offered to him. He would be almost completely alone with the youngling he would be tutoring, only a couple of employees would remain for the sake of protecting the young master should the tutor try to take advantage of him. Prowl couldn’t help the smirk that spread over his lip components at the thought. He was going to take advantage of the mechlet he would be tutoring but not in the way the creators and staff were probably thinking. He had no intention of doing anything to the youngling other than ensure he’d be out of his way and would provide him with an alibi for whatever he ended up doing. He didn’t know what mischief he would conjure this time, but he was going to have as much fun as he could while doing it.

He reached the family’s state and took some time to map out the outer layout before he finally made his presence known to the staff. He was guided to a large room, something that he assumed was the family’s private library if the shelves full to the brim with pads containing book files were anything to go by. Prowl couldn’t help but feel already the urge to look through the quite impressive collection and perhaps help himself to a book file or two.

In the middle of the room were a row of seats, from cozy and expensive looking couches, to recliners where tone could read comfortably. Near the corners were some tables arranged like school working stations and it was in one of those he found a mechlet already waiting for him.

“If you need anything, just call us through this intercom here.” One of the aids told him and turned around, leaving the room without waiting for a reply. Prowl scowled a little, but he was used to this kind of attitude from servants and bodyguards –It wasn’t uncommon that they would be instructed to exit rooms as soon as they delivered what message or report they had to give unless the masters made particular gestures that indicated the servants were to stay until they were dismissed.

Prowl turned his attention back to the small mechlet that waited for him with a not-too excited expression clear on his red faceplates. “I really don’t want to do this, but I have no option in this.” The mechlet waved a hand in dismissal of his own wants. “But if you can do this fast, I can find a way to compensate you.” He said with a glint in his optics showing his delight at the possibility his tutoring could go through faster, if possible.

“I’m not being paid by the joor, rather, I’m being paid by session and we’ll take as long as we need to take.” Prowl made his way to the table, secretly relishing on the visible deflating of the smaller one’s enthusiasm.

“Oh.” The mechlet slumped and resigned himself to his fate.

“However,” Prowl smiled amiably, fluttering his wing panels a little. “I can make the first session quite light. I don’t particularly make a point of submitting anyone to grueling sessions, especially right away. It’s quite ineffective to do that, and only delays progress.”

The mechling seemed to brighten at the prospect of a lighter tutoring session and nodded, please. “I will definitely compensate you anyway.”

Prowl bowed his head politely. “Thank you.” Sitting down across the other mechlet, Prowl picked the pads containing the texts his ‘student’ was using for his current grade. “Quite advanced for your range, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, this private institute thinks that we should be way above the standard of the public institutions.”

Prowl raised an optic brow lightly. “A fact I believe you don’t agree with.”

“Not really.” The mechlet shrugged. “I think their selling point of telling our creators that they prepare us better is a sham.”

Prowl looked through the texts and nodded in agreement. “Going by this text alone, all they do is cram you with subjects, and in order to cover all of them, very little time is spent trying to actually teach them. You won’t understand most of what you are doing here. Instead, you’re only going to learn to repeat things you’ve memorized without truly understanding what you’re doing.”

Prowl’s student just looked at him completely silent for a few moments. “Uh...what?”

Prowl chuckled. “You’re going to learn a formulae to repeat over and over, you’re not going to be taught to solve problems as they come to you.”

“Creative thinking?”

“Yes and no.” Prowl began to scribble on his side of the screen, when he finished he touched the screen and the view flipped so the mechlet across could read it. “I can teach you how to solve this through a simple enough method. And you might learn how to solve similar mathematical problems, but because you do not understanding why you’re solving it the way I’m teaching it, or understanding why you’re doing this in the first place, you will have trouble solving every cycle problems that could benefit from this knowledge. Being able to know how to use this to your advantage on daily life situations will be helpful to both linear and creative thinking.”

“Oh! You mean I’ll learn to memorize, but I won’t actually learn to think how to apply them outside of having the problem written for me to solve?” The mechlet’s face brightened a little, he was already liking the attitude of this new tutor.

“Yes, more or less.” Prowl flipped through more of the mechlet’s texts. “That’s without mentioning that with so little time being devoted to teach you properly to understand what you’re doing, you’re very likely to purge it off your memory banks for lack of use as more processing power is devoted to the newest subjects.” Prowl looked back up. “I’ll see what your level is like and we’ll adapt the sessions to your particular needs and pace.”

“I like that!”

“I’m sure you do.” Prowl held back a little smirk. “I could use a little energon, wouldn’t you?”

“I’ll have the servants bring us some. I kind of want a shake.” The youngster left his seat and ran out of the room, leaving Prowl alone with some time to ‘admire’ the collection of data books and other trinkets and luxury items lying about. He was deciding if he wanted any of these expensive book files for himself, or if he help himself to any of the items laying about, he still needed to explore the home further, certain he’d found something in the place that would pick his fancy.

Prowl pulled a finely crafted pad out of a row, turning on the display and selected a random chapter in the digital index. He gave a quick look trough the pad, then put it back in its place, picking another to repeat the pattern a few times until he finally found something to his liking. He flickered his wing panels for a moment to detect any possible movement, and looked around to ensure no cameras were in the place. He suspected since this was a private library for the family, they didn’t keep cameras inside, only on the outside to keep record of who came in and who came out as well as when.

He casually strode back to the table and set the pad down amongst the educational texts. A few moments later, his student was back with a servant that pushed forth a cart containing several types of drinks and additives.

Prowl couldn’t help but flicker his optics at the display. “Is all that for just us?”

“I don’t like flat drinks.” The mechling plopped down on his seat again and waved at his servant who began to mix a few of the colorful drinks with some additives and cubes of sweet things. Prowl could only imagine what this youngster would be like after three or four of those. “What would you like?”

Prowl glanced at the mix of things suspiciously, finding an opportunity right there. “If you don’t mind, I would rather mix my own.”

“Suit yourself. I will leave this here.” The servant bowed and left the room again. After Prowl made himself just a sweetened drink, he picked the pad he took off the shelves and handed it to the mechling. “We’ll use this book for your studies during our first sessions.”

“Huh? What does this book have to do with the subjects?”

Prowl smiled amiably, resting his elbows on the table and chin on his interlaced fingers. “Read chapter four, page fifteen, second paragraph.”

“No offense, but this is a detective’s fiction story.” Nonetheless, the mechling read the indicated paragraph and quirked an optic brow. “This does seem a little familiar.”

“You can solve the proposed dilemma with the aid of a few formulas you have been studying.” Prowl took a sip from his drink and watched with avid interest as his student all but drained his own. Prowl retrieved the book file and set it aside for the time being, beginning to explain the first lessons they would catch up on. Every now and then, Prowl would serve some mixed drink to his student.

Eventually Prowl began to incorporate the book file into the practical exercises, while keeping a steady flow of sweetened drinks for the mechlet. It was all perfectly harmless to his systems, but the excessive amounts of such energy shots were bound to make him excited and more energetic only to deplete his systems once the initial rush wore off, forcing him to recharge. As expected, only a few more drinks into the session and Prowl’s ‘employer’ was fighting a losing battle against the impervious need to recharge. “So tired...”

“You’ve been quite diligent in your studies today, and haven’t had a break yet.” Prowl stood up and moved around the desk just in time for his student to drop the finely crafted pad into the floor along with another pair and rubbed his face, feeling so drowsy. “Let’s take you to your quarters before you recharge here, your creators wouldn’t be pleased if you used the facilities like that.”

Prowl knelt down to pick the fallen pads, skillfully managing the slip the book file into his subspace, the youngster was too drowsy to even notice which pads he dropped and which ones Prowl set back up. He had barely set the pads back in the table when the mechlet toppled to the side and Prowl found himself catching the now deeply in recharge mechlet. “Too much sweet things are bad for you, you know?” Prowl murmured with a gentle smile and turned around to accommodate his charge on his back between his wings and stood up, carrying the recharging mechlet on his back.

This, of course, also played to Prowl’s advantage, as it could give him an excuse to get access to his charge’s quarters. He secured his cargo with one arm and pressed the intercom’s pad to call the servants and only a few moments later another servant showed up and tried to relieve him from his cargo, only to find the youngster had made himself quite comfortable on his back and stirred sleepily when the servant tried to remove him off the Praxian-shaped nest with legs.

“I guess I’ll have to carry him to his room, then.” Prowl was actually amused by the clingy nature of the young master of the house.

The servant nodded with an apologetic expression. “That’s how he is when he’s recharging. Once he’s got comfortable in one spot he won’t let it go unless he’s brought to a much more comfortable place.”

“It’s quite alright. He’s not very heavy; I can probably carry him just fine to his room if you would be so kind to direct me to it.” With another nod from the servant Prowl was guided down the halls towards his charge’s room, casually keeping an optic on the path and filling it away in his memory for later use.

“This is it.” The servant stopped by the door and typed in the staff’s code to open it. “I’ll get him fresh covers, please set him down on his berth.”

“Of course.” Prowl watched the servant go into a separate room within his student’s quarters, what he assumed was some kind of closet containing some fine bedding for the pampered sparklet, and made his way into the part of the room that was definitely the sleeping area. He took a moment, in between fighting with the mechlet to actually let go of him so he could lay him down, to give a quick once over to his bedroom. Something glinting in a shelf above the mechlet’s berth caught his attention, finding an interesting collection of crystals kept floating by magnetic stands.

They seemed to be ‘seeds’ of crystals at varying stages of growth, a few just small enough to be visible to him, while others were just ripe to begin sprouting newer segments if given the proper nourishment. One of the crystals caught his attention the most, it was a clear pale blue that was just at the right stage to produce new growth. For some reason that crystal seemed to be calling to him.

He heard the sounds of the servant approaching and managed to transfer the youngster to his berth just in time for the servant to come over with new blankets for the young master. “Thank you. I will take care of cleaning the library, I’ll have you escorted to the door, your payment is here.” The servant held out a card for Prowl.

“Of course. Thank you.” Prowl accepted the card and followed the servant out, sparing a glance to the collection of crystals, knowing that one crystal would be in his possession sooner or later.


	14. The Art of Deception. (14/??)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He had been unwanted but he willed himself to survive and old tricks are hard to leave behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an AU bunny that I had been keeping under the bunny pile, I don't think it'll be nearly as long as Paint Streaks and Sparkless, but you know how these bunnies tend to be. Several concepts seen through the duration of this fic are inspired by or belong to [](http://snugsbunny.livejournal.com/profile)[snugsbunny](http://snugsbunny.livejournal.com/) and used with permission.

Title: The Art of Deception. (14/??)  
Rating: PG-13  
Warnings: A bit of violence, minor implications of sex, drugs, self flagellation. Eventual slash.  
Characters: Prowl, Jazz, Smokescreen.  
Setting: G1 AU. Borrows shamelessly from IDW and DW elements as necessary.  
Summary: He had been unwanted but he willed himself to survive and old tricks are hard to leave behind.  
Notes: This is an AU bunny that I had been keeping under the bunny pile, I don't think it'll be nearly as long as Paint Streaks and Sparkless, but you know how these bunnies tend to be. Several concepts seen through the duration of this fic are inspired by or belong to [](http://snugsbunny.livejournal.com/profile)[**snugsbunny**](http://snugsbunny.livejournal.com/) and used with permission.

Many thanks to [](http://mmouse15.livejournal.com/profile)[**mmouse15**](http://mmouse15.livejournal.com/) for kindly beta reading this for me and [](http://wicked3659.livejournal.com/profile)[**wicked3659**](http://wicked3659.livejournal.com/) for her input. Hopefully we're going back on steady schedule again.

Prowl had returned to the Academy's living accommodations without incident, Iacon was by far a much safer city where one could walk at night through an empty alley without having to look back now and again to make sure no undesirables followed. It wasn't a crime-free city by any means, but it was much safer than Kaon by an incredible margin and thus, Prowl knew nobody would be paying him particular or unwanted attention. Even so, he never lowered his guard, his wing panels always held high and ready to pick up any sensory data from possible unexpected company.

He contemplated his catch of the evening, the data book he had appropriated at the end of his class with the mechling. He obviously could not show off his new acquisition nor display it proudly in his own rack at his quarters, so it would have to stay hidden in the depths of his sub space pocket at the very least until he graduated and had the chance to settle down somewhere long after everyone had forgotten about his time tutoring the sparklet. He could always fabricate a believable story for why he possessed the book if anyone ever recognized it, but for now, he'd just forget about its existence. To many it would seem the book was hardly a worthy bounty, despite the fine and expensive materials used to construct the pad, but for an avid reader such as Prowl, the rarity of the book was worth more than a card full of currency.

As Prowl made his way through the halls of the living arrangements, he stopped in his tracks when he found an unusual accessory decorating the wall next to his door. "Jazz?"

Jazz, who was leaning against the wall, with his arms crossed and his sight seemingly glued to his feet; looked up and his face brightened immediately. "Hi, how was th'tutoring?"

"It was good. Quite productive." Prowl raised an optic brow and came to a stop just a couple of steps away from Jazz. He was sure he had seen the mech's expression being unusually serious and somewhat troubled. "You're back early from your party. I didn't think you would be back until a few more hours."

"Yeah, it kind of ended earlier than we expected." Jazz shrugged and tried to keep up his smile. He could have fooled others, but Prowl could tell something was not quite right with that statement. Prowl made a soft sound and opened the door, gesturing Jazz to go in.

"Going to tell me what happened?" Prowl asked once the door closed behind them.

"What makes ya think somethin' happened?" Jazz asked with all the innocence he could muster in a normally disarming grin.

Prowl, though, didn't buy it and crossed his arms, casually canting his head. "Do you really want me to explain why I can tell you're omitting to tell me something?"

Jazz's grin faded and he let out a long, tired sigh. "Party was okay fer a while, then it just kind of ended abruptly when a mech didn't get that no means no."

Prowl's wing panels tensed minutely and he crossed the distance to his friend, sensing whatever happened definitely involved Jazz first hand. "What happened exactly?" He touched Jazz's arm gently and the visored mechling smiled a little in gratitude for the caring hidden in the simple gesture.

"We were all jus' havin' fun for a while, then there was too much high grade involved for m'taste." Jazz shrugged a little and went to sit down on the small couch, venting another sigh. "Mechs got a little too cozy an' liberal with th'flirting and it was okay and in good fun."

"Then someone decided to take it into a more serious direction?

Jazz nodded, bringing a hand to his face to rub at it, feeling the events of the evening beginning to catch up to him. "Mech wanted t'find some dark place we could go to, but I told him I wasn't interested, tryin' to keep it friendly, y'know? He thought I was playin' hard to get, and I had to get serious and tell him I really didn't want to 'face him."

Prowl picked a cube and filled it on the dispenser attached to the wall, coming back and offering it to his friend, his wings were tense and was scanning Jazz for any structural damage or any signs of having gone through a fight and being hurt. "Did he try to hurt you?"

"He did try t'drag me out." Jazz accepted the cube gratefully.

"Did you hide the body when you were through with him?" Prowl asked in a tone that suggested while he was joking and trying to bring some lighter mood into the conversation, he was also being deadly serious.

Jazz did manage to smile, though. "I didn't get to that part. I only kicked his head into the wall...that kind of ended th'party 'cause they had t'take him to th'medics to make sure I didn't break anythin' vital for his continued function."

Prowl couldn't help himself and reached to cup one of Jazz's hands with his own. "I'm sure your friends do not hold it against you."

"I know they don't, he wasn't even a guest of my friend. Mech was a neighbor's spawn that invited himself in." Jazz nodded and sipped the energon as silence fell upon them, neither knowing what to say next.

Finally, Prowl broke the quiet that settled between them. "You came here to distract yourself, didn't you?" Jazz nodded, giving Prowl a sheepish little smile. Prowl couldn't help but feel the urge to do anything within his power to brighten Jazz's mood. In the back of his processor he knew he would have to find out the mech's name and although he never doubted Jazz would be capable of handling himself with such kind of mechs, Prowl wanted to make it clear for the scum that Jazz was not to be tampered with. He was fiercely protective of the few things he truly cared about and Jazz ranked quite high in that list.

"I didn't want t'go to bed just like that after this. I know I'd get no rest." Jazz finished the cube and set it down on the small table next to the couch. "I can go if yer tired, though. I'm sure th'sparklet was a hard strut to chew on."

When Jazz made a move to stand up, Prowl gripped his hand gently and shook his head. "It's quite all right. I'm not tired and I always have time for you, Jazz." He smiled a little to the other black and white mechlet. "I wouldn't be able to get some rest myself knowing I let you go when you're not feeling well yourself."

"Glad t'know yer own sleep plays such a heavy hand in my wellbeing." Jazz grinned and teased weakly.

"You shouldn't feel bad, though. That mech was asking for it." Prowl stood and tugged Jazz's hand, gesturing for his friend to stand up and follow him.

"I know I shouldn't, but it kinda ruins the mood, ya know? Ya tryin' to have a good time, some perfectly innocent fun an' some brute has t'come and step on that." Jazz huffed.

"I'm afraid some times that's the price to pay when you're an attractive mech." Prowl led Jazz to the berth, sitting down on it while he dug under the platform for one of the games he and Jazz usually played together.

Jazz smiled, a little happier this time. "Flatterer."

Prowl raised an optic brow while he opened the box and pulled out the game pieces. "Flatterer? How so?"

The visored mechling nodded, crossing his arms. "Callin' me attractive jus' now."

"I fail to see how stating a fact counts as flattery." Prowl canted his head. "I don't say it to make you feel better or just to throw a compliment to you. You are an attractive mech, I know you have a few admirers."

Jazz's smile dropped a little, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, I guess."

Prowl reached a finger and tipped Jazz's face up. "Did I say something wrong?"

"What? No! Not at all." Jazz shook his head vigorously. "Jus' thought I had maybe offended ya sayin' that you were flatterin' me."

"Ah. No, you did not offend me, it's just that I have no need for flattery when honesty works much better." Prowl smiled at his friend and gestured to the board. "Your pick."

"I'm goin' red this time."

Prowl turned the board around so the red pieces faced Jazz. "For the record, Jazz, I do think you're an attractive mech. But only one part of the whole package, and I'm quite fond of the mech behind the good looking face plates."

Jazz grinned at Prowl's roundabout way to say things. "Ya can jus' say ya like my charmin' personality, Prowler."

Prowl snickered. "Now where the fun would be if I just outright say that?"

"Oh, so ya do like my charmin' personality."

"I never said such a thing."

"I think ya did just now."

"My memory must be faulty because I cannot remember saying such a thing at all."

"S'ok! Mine's workin' just fine."

"I'm sure it is."

The friendly bantering they shared eased them both, quickly leaving the unpleasant experience behind for the night as they engaged in a couple of games. By the time they finished the last game it was past the dorm's curfew and Jazz was going to sneak back into his room.

"Are you sure you will be all right?" Prowl asked while he saw Jazz to the door.

"Yeah, not th'first time I accidentally stayed past curfew." Jazz assured him with a bright smile. "Thanks for tonight, Prowl. I really needed this."

"Don't mention it." Prowl smiled back.

"See ya after class, then. Don't forget the shakes are on ya."

"I won't. Rest well, Jazz."

It was only when they parted that they released their fingers were intertwined when they walked to Prowl's door. Jazz's smile widened a little, and so did Prowl's as he watched his...more than just a friend now go back to his own room. When Jazz was out of sight, Prowl closed the door and went to his berth, laying down and tapping his fingers to his abdominal plates while he contemplated the future.

The next day, classes went as they normally did. Prowl conversed with the student whose brother he had tutored and was pleased to know the mechling's parents were happy with his work, and that apparently nobody had noticed the missing book file so far.

As Prowl gathered his pads when his class with Smokescreen was over, that the Praxian teacher approached him. Prowl couldn't help but feel something was going to happen and that he wasn't going to like it.

"Prowl," Smokescreen looked down at him with the most serious expression the mechlet had seen on his face plates. "We need to have a serious talk."


	15. The Art of Deception. (15/??)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He had been unwanted but he willed himself to survive and old tricks are hard to leave behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an AU bunny that I had been keeping under the bunny pile, I don't think it'll be nearly as long as Paint Streaks and Sparkless, but you know how these bunnies tend to be. Several concepts seen through the duration of this fic are inspired by or belong to [](http://snugsbunny.livejournal.com/profile)[snugsbunny](http://snugsbunny.livejournal.com/) and used with permission.

Title: The Art of Deception. (15/??)  
Rating: PG-13  
Warnings: A bit of violence, minor implications of sex, drugs, self flagellation. Eventual slash.  
Characters: Prowl, Jazz, Smokescreen, Drift.  
Setting: G1 AU. Borrows shamelessly from IDW and DW elements as necessary.  
Summary: He had been unwanted but he willed himself to survive and old tricks are hard to leave behind.  
Notes: This is an AU bunny that I had been keeping under the bunny pile, I don't think it'll be nearly as long as Paint Streaks and Sparkless, but you know how these bunnies tend to be. Several concepts seen through the duration of this fic are inspired by or belong to [](http://snugsbunny.livejournal.com/profile)[**snugsbunny**](http://snugsbunny.livejournal.com/) and used with permission.

Many thanks to [](http://mmouse15.livejournal.com/profile)[**mmouse15**](http://mmouse15.livejournal.com/) for kindly beta reading this for me and [](http://wicked3659.livejournal.com/profile)[**wicked3659**](http://wicked3659.livejournal.com/) for her input. Hopefully we're going back on steady schedule again.

  
Prowl looked at Smokescreen with a hard expression, not exactly hostile but one that would let his teacher know he wasn't pleased with the prospect of spending more time around him than what was absolutely necessary.

"May I inquire what it is you want to talk about, sir?"

"It's about you and your...peculiar situation." Smokescreen gestured for Prowl to sit down again and he took a seat across the mechlet.

"My situation, sir?" Prowl raised an optic brow, not at all suspecting what Smokescreen wanted to talk about or how it would shake his newfound sense of stability. "What situation are you talking about?"

"Prowl, I know you're a very smart and quite dedicated student, however, there are things about you that seem to be less than clear." Smokescreen leaned back on his seat, seizing the student sitting across of him. "I was quite curious when you told me you had not been raised in Praxus, but you were quite...ambiguous about your family and origins. All I know is you come from Kaon but not under what circumstances."

Smokescreen brought a hand to his chevron, stroking it idly. "You see, I feel from you a certain...distaste for your Praxian origins, something that no true Praxian mech would ever feel. And that is something I cannot wrap my processors around. I thought maybe it was because you were an orphaned mech that was raised by non-Praxians in Kaon."

Prowl remained impassive in the outside, although inward he was bristling already, imagining that Smokescreen was looking into his past, and that fact was more than enough to incite Prowl's anger. Smokescreen had no right to go snooping around to find about his personal information simply because he showed disdain for his Praxian origins. "With all due respect, sir, I would appreciate if you get to the point you're trying to make without more preamble."

Smokescreen frowned but his lips curled in a little humorless smile. "You're quite remarkable, Prowl. Not many mechs would speak to me like that."

"I do have other duties to attend to as well, sir. As much as I would like to humor you and listen to all you have to say, I'm afraid time is of the essence." Prowl wasn't being openly hostile but was making no effort to hide that he really wasn't up to listen to Smokescreen's flourished explanations, whatever the mech had to say he better say it now.

"Very well, I'll get to the crux of the matter." Smokescreen looked straight into Prowl's optics. "Prowl, I have reasons to suspect your entrance into the Academy happened under particularly irregular circumstances. I have found nothing useful that could link to your origins in Kaon."

That did get Prowl's interest straight away although the chevroned mechlet didn't show any reaction beyond raising an optic ridge. "Why would you want to find about that? I was raised in Kaon and I don't know anything about Praxus past what's taught in text book files and now, thanks to you, that there's a very specific model type to the city. My family didn't instill any kind of values about being Praxian, that's all."

"They might not have taught you anything about Praxus and the customs observed there, I can believe that much, but it doesn't explain why you seem to be so contemptuous about your heritage. It's something you should be proud of not hateful, and thus...it sparked my curiosity." Smokescreen waved a hand around, trying to bring emphasis to his point about what he thought Prowl should feel. He reached for his pad and turned it on, flipping through the data until he found what he was looking for.

"Now, allow me to explain something. When this academy made its bid to keep me as one of the permanent teachers when a Praxian institute was offering me a better pay, one of the conditions I stipulated to remain here was that I wanted every Praxian aspiring student to be assigned to me for their examination." Smokescreen looked back at Prowl, pausing for a moment as if he was trying to decide what to do next. "I'm certain you are familiar with the process of selection, seeing as you went through it."

Prowl realized Smokescreen seemed to suspect something, narrowing his optics at the thinly veiled tone of accusation. "Yes, sir. The examination process requires a general knowledge exam and an aptitude exam. The first is handled in a general class room with a media of fifteen to twenty students at a time under a teacher's observation to ensure the students won't cheat. The aptitude examination is handled individually by the different teachers of the Academy."

Smokescreen hummed and nodded. "That's correct. You see Prowl...for the aptitude exams, if a mech is Praxian it is I who runs the examination by default. I never saw you until the cycle you arrived at the Academy."

Prowl shrugged. "Perhaps I wasn't sent to you for examination because I come from Kaon rather than Praxus. Perhaps you have never been there, but in Kaon frames are modified all the time. For all you and I know, I am not really a Praxian and my family just had my frame modified to look like one." Prowl leaned back on his seat, looking straight into Smokescreen's optics as he spoke, never showing a single sign of being disturbed by Smokescreen's questions.

Smokescreen wasn't deterred, though. He was quite convinced Prowl was of Praxian origin, but it was what happened between his creation and his arrival at the Academy what now interested him. "While that is a possibility, I sincerely doubt any medic can produce the kind of chevron you sport. It's not merely decorative, Prowl, and that is without counting the level of sensitivity of your wing panels."

"It could be. I wouldn't know, sir. I told you already that I've never been to Praxus, and don't know any Praxians myself." Prowl shook his head, clearly wishing to get over this point already. "If I was created by Praxians they handed me down, then, or they perished. I don't know and I really am not concerned about it."

Smokescreen, too, wanted to move away from that point. "Very well. I can actually believe that the staff simply decided to go by your city of birth since most Praxian applicants do not come from other regions but Praxus. That still doesn't answer to a certain incongruity I found about you and your possible examination."

"What would that be?"

Smokescreen stood and began to pace around, crossing his arms behind his back. "Well, Prowl, for this period we had only one Praxian applicant, which I examined myself." He looked over his shoulder at Prowl. "Of course, he passed my examination and I was certain that student would pass his general knowledge test."

Prowl tilted his head, looking genuinely confused. "What does that have to do with me?"

"That student never showed up in the Academy, Prowl. But you did."

The mechlet frowned deeply. "And?"

"Don't you think it's a little...unusual? A student I examined and I'm sure was accepted never showed up, but one I never saw and of whom I can't seem to find further information did." The Praxian teacher turned around and took a few steps closer. Prowl couldn't help but feel somewhat cornered. "I have reasons to think, Prowl, that you might have something you’d like to tell me.”

Prowl remained impassive, holding the older mech’s gaze. “Would you care to clarify what you mean?”

Smokescreen snorted. “Do not play games with me, Prowl. Your enrolling in this Academy is most suspicious and you know that.”

“I’m afraid I don’t, sir.” Prowl shrugged again. “I was examined like any other student was. If you don’t believe me, feel free to review the data base, then.”

Smokescreen grunted. “I don’t have clearance to dig in further into that, but even if I could, I still believe something is not quite right.”

“Because one of your favorites didn’t get into the Academy like you thought? I’m sorry but I fail to see how that has any relation to me. Are you trying to accuse me of something?” Prowl stood up. “Are you going to try to have me expelled because your fellow Praxian didn’t get in?”

“Listen, Prowl,” Smokescreen raised his hands, trying to appease the younger mech. “I am not implying you did something—“

“Certainly not.” Prowl began to walk away, sidestepping around Smokescreen. “You are just telling me all these things because it’s highly amusing, isn’t it?”

Smokescreen followed after the retreating student. “Prowl, that’s not it. I just mean that...well there might be more to your background than we know, and it might be related to this occurrence.”

“Whatever it is, I do not know. But I do know you are taking far too much interest in my affairs, sir.” Prowl sneered the last word, clearly no longer impassive about Smokescreen’s words and doings. “I would advise against trying to dig further into my records and finding about me, sir. That is far beyond the responsibility of a teacher and to me it skirts too close to abusing your privileges. I’m certain you wouldn’t want to lose them.”

It was Smokescreen who frowned this time, clearly scandalized by Prowl’s veiled threat. “Are you threatening me?”

Prowl’s wing panels flickered with barely contained anger. “No, sir. I am merely pointing out that your interest on one student is bordering in harassment, and I will not stand for it. You want me out of this institution? I hope then, that you can handle the consequences because I am not going down in silence.”

Smokescreen stood there with shock written all over his face watching the furious youngster leave the class room. Prowl’s reaction hadn’t been what he had expected but it certainly made him all the more concerned about whether Prowl was legally in the Academy and if not he was convinced someone, likely whoever reared the young Kaon-raised Praxian, did something to get Prowl in the Academy. But the possibility Prowl was actually a legal student was also there. “I have to find proof of one or the other.”

Prowl stormed through the halls and open grounds of the Academy radiating an anger that seemed uncharacteristic for the usually calm and pleasant young mech. Jazz saw Prowl pass by the open door of the training room, frowning behind his visor at the deep scowl that marred the mech’s handsome face. He turned to the center of the fighting mat where Drift was explaining something and raised his hand. “Uh... Drift, sir, may I be excused?”

Drift looked at Jazz for a moment, taking notice of his sudden anxiety. “Yes, of course. The class is almost done anyway.”

“Thanks!” Jazz ran off the training room after Prowl. “Hey, Prowl!”

Prowl heard his name being called and stopped for a moment, his frame seemed to relax marginally. “Hello, Jazz.” He sighed. “I’m sorry, I hope you weren’t calling me for a while.”

“Nah, it’s ok.” Jazz slowed down to a stop by his friend. “What’s wrong? Ya seem...upset.”

Prowl frowned again and looked down, debating whether or not he should tell Jazz, deciding his friend shared his woes with him, might as well share his own. “Smokescreen is doing something about me that is quite irritating.”

Prowl explained the situation to Jazz, cleverly avoiding admitting or denying any of the accusations thrown at him and rather focusing into what, surprisingly even to himself, bothered him the most: Smokescreen’s invasion of his privacy and his excessive interest on him and his past.

Jazz understood that Prowl had to have his reasons to have the contempt he had about his Praxian heritage and reasons to have left Kaon behind without talking much about his family and upbringing there. Because of his past experience training in Kaon he knew the place was not the easiest for a young mech to grow up in. He could relate, because he had his own share of personal things he didn’t want to explain to others or that he didn’t want touched upon by other mechs.

Prowl found that talking to Jazz eased him from his irritation and anger and Jazz’s agreement that Smokescreen was going too far into trying to find things about Prowl along with his support served to relax him and calm him down further. Prowl knew that short of ordering a medical identity examination that included reviewing his chamber’s serial, or finding the mech whose academic identity he stole, Smokescreen would have a hard time proving that he wasn’t a legal student of the school. And to acquire the permissions to request such thing, Smokescreen would have to explain how he reached that conclusion, which could prove to be detrimental for him.

Prowl wasn’t about to let his efforts to be ruined by Smokescreen and had no qualms in putting his less admirable traits and skills to ensure the pesky teacher would let the subject of his origins and acceptance in the Iacon Academy to be put to rest. He hoped it wouldn’t come to that, though.

“Hey, class is done an’ I think ya need somethin’ sweet t’cheer ya up.” Jazz hooked his arms around Prowl’s and tugged him towards the gate with a smile. “An’ someone owes me a shake.”

Prowl found Jazz’s smile to be quite infectious and allowed him to drag him out. “Alright, let’s go get those shakes.”

Jazz’s smile grew wider but didn’t let go of Prowl’s arm as they headed away, neither noticed the two mechs that followed them with their optics.


End file.
